Second Life
by KuraraOkumura
Summary: The War is lost. Hermione Granger is bitten by Greyback, and her time turner goes awry. When she wakes up with no memories of her past, in front of a pale eyed blonde boy who calls himself a werewolf - and her with it -, she is given the chance at a new life - however dark that life might be. But the Darkness Inside Hogwarts in the Marauders' Era is not what it first seems to be...
1. Chapter 1

**Chapter 1**

Fenrir Greyback closed in on her, his eyes never leaving hers. The hatred so obvious in them was enough to make her cringe, and when he laid a hand on the small of her back and pulled her up to him, she let out a shaky breath. The werewolf laughed, his teeth teasing the skin of her neck mercilessly, his hands no longer on her back and roaming too low on her body for her not to care. She pounded weakly at his chest, but the man never budged, and she whined as his hands squeezed both her butt cheeks and he pulled her firm against him.

"Funny," he whispered, his head buried in her neck, ignoring the shiver of disgust that was rocking through her, "that the Lord would offer you to me like this." A throaty gruff that she assumed was a laugh brushed against the skin of her neck, and again disgust took her over and she pushed at his large shoulders - to no avail. "Merlin knows I've been feeling lonely lately."

_Calm down Hermione._ The Witch took a deep breath, trying hard to resist the sudden urge to pound against him with everything she had and get him the _hell_ off her. _Come on. You're supposed to be the brightest Witch of your age. Act like it!_

She groaned as Greyback's hands slid along the back of her thighs, and she had no option but to hang on to his shoulders for dear life then, lest she want to fall back and crack her skull against the floor. At that moment that solution still seemed way more appealing than being groped by the werewolf, but she pushed the thought away, concentrating on remaining rock still as he felt her over her tight jeans. His hands under her thighs were tentative at first, then invasive as he brushed his fingers against her middle. Hermione shifted against him, inching herself up to try and escape his touch, but then he grew bold and cupped her with a hand. She gasped and reached down to pry his fingers off of her, painfully aware of the insistent throb of her centre at his touch, and knowing full well that the bloody werewolf could _smell_ her arousal from a mile away.

The beast looked up to meet her eyes, his own full of lust, his mouth hanging slightly opened and his tongue resting on his bottom teeth. Seeing that look, Hermione's breathing quickened, and, taking a snap decision, drew her head back and slammed it against his forehead. She fell to the floor as both their grips loosened and he shouted, more in anger than pain, holding his head and roaring like a mad man. She turned and ran, fear in her heart as she thought of what the others could possibly have been living after-

No. She couldn't think of it just yet. Her encounter with the werewolf had shaken her badly enough as it was. Her cheeks still burned with the tears that she had shed just hours before, her skin so tense over her cheekbones that she felt as if it would crackle any moment now. She drew in a shaky breath as she rushed through the castle, the building she had learned to consider home throughout the years. But Hogwarts was now more of a prison than a school, and the darkness that it had succumbed to was evident in the way the portraits remained silent around her.

Hermione didn't like to think of where the surviving students were now. Not like she _could_ possibly think of anything besides the searing pain in her heart at the turn that the Battle of Hogwarts had taken. She couldn't remember anything past the moment when Bellatrix Lestrange had thrown a killing curse at her best friend's mother. Couldn't see past the death of those she loved. _Had_ loved. Her legs shook as she continued to run, and suddenly she was falling, her legs tangling over in a pile of limbs as she tumbled down a flight of stairs and finally lay at the bottom of the last step, unwilling to even try to stand. Her resolve failed her, but when she heard Greyback's roar of fury rock through the castle, she pulled herself upwards painfully, making a grab for her wand, surprised that it was still at her belt, that they had not taken it off her. And then she was standing, oblivious to the pain in her left knee and the angle at which it was bent, and by her side stood her best friend, his features a mixture of hatred and grief and pain as he held her up. Hermione gasped and lunged for him, flinging her arms around his neck in disbelief. Little did she notice his own dishevelled state and his arm bent at an angle by his side, the bone of his lower arm protruding from the place where his elbow should have been.

"Ron!" He gasped as she flushed him against her, holding her with his one good arm, and she drew back immediately, one hand on his shoulder as she took in his ruined arm. She pointed her wand instantly, old reflexes still strong, and whispered a spell that she knew would temporarily mend the bone. The redhead's face momentarily tensed before flushing in relief, and he relaxed significantly, though his wand arm remained tense. Then he took in her own state and repeated her spell on her leg, using his borrowed Goblin wand. They lay against each other for only seconds before parting. Their eyes met, and all the sadness in the world flowed between them.

Then a scowl darkened his features, and he took her hand and broke into a run, away from the echo of Greyback's roar. They ran breathlessly. They threw curse after curse over their shoulders at the dark wizard now running after them, and after only minutes they ran into Neville, then Luna, then Seamus and Dean, then Parvati and Cho, and soon the DA were complete. Four of them were missing, but all of them knew that these four would never come back. All of their faces were set into hard lines, their tear streaked faces masks of hatred and revenge.

It was then, surrounded by those who had fought with her for years, that Hermione finally admitted what she hadn't wanted to. They had lost the War. Despite all their good will, the lives they had lost on the way, the pain they had gone through and the things they had done together - _Together_, she thought bitterly -, they had lost the War.

Harry was dead. The Boy-Who-Lived lived no more, and all their hopes for a better future had hours before faded with his last breath.

***FLASHBACK***

The hall rang with the curses of the last two duels. Bellatrix Lestrange against Molly Weasley - and The-Boy-Who-Lived against You-Know-Who. Along the sides, all of them had grown silent, staring breathlessly as the four fought in the centre. Flashes of green and red and white flew across the wide room. Wordless spell after wordless spell, counter curse after counter curse, the clashes and zaps of magic echoed against the walls, filling the silence effortlessly. Hogwarts herself was holding her breath.

Then the horror-like creature in the centre threw one last curse, a green hex that twisted in the air as would a snake. The oxygen in their lungs seemed to hang on to the moment, and a single second dragged on into eternity. The silence drew on as Voldemort's last hissed spell rang in their ears, and finally, the Unforgivable hit it's target, and Harry Potter's eyes came blank, and he fell to the floor without a sound, and Voldemort stared on at the Boy-Who-Lived, and those looking on still held their breaths. Then Bellatrix's shrill-pitched laugh filled all their minds, and she killed Molly Weasley without a backward glance, and finally the spectators began to believe, that their hero had fallen and that everything was done.

Ginny rushed forward with a scream, her wand raised to continue what her mother had begun. Her red curse flew out to meet with Bellatrix's shield, and then the girl flew back into the crowd of students as a third green flash of light was sent her way. She lay motionless in Percy's arms, her wide green eyes stared on without seeing, and a third Weasley fell that night. Ron ran to his brother's side, shouting for dear life at the death of the youngest Weasley, and would have run up to Bellatrix and her sickening satisfied smirk himself, had Remus Lupin not suddenly grabbed his arm and yanked him backwards.

The werewolf's body was rippling in quick cascades of violent shudders, a terrifying snarl painted all over his face. As he held on to a screaming Ron, he seemed to hold onto his own control with that strong grip. In that moment, Hermione stared at him as if she had never seen him, the fury on his face contorting his features into an unrecognisable snarl, and suddenly he hurled Ronald to the ground and strode forward, heading not for Bellatrix but for the man that stood out of his Lord's way, his face more animal than human. The two werewolves faced each other, their wands out and raised, and Bellatrix and Voldemort stood and gazed as creator and created faced each other - _finally_. The hall was still silent as they spoke, their minds still reeling from the deaths of three of their own in such a short time.

"Greyback," came Lupin's snarl. His teeth remained bared at the other werewolf, and in that moment he looked more like his animal self than he did the Professor who had taught them Defence Against the Dark Arts for a year.

Fenrir Greyback gave a mocking bow, the corners of his lifted in a sickening smile. "Remus," he offered, "how are you? Care to exchange a courtesy or two? No, I supposed you wouldn't," he added, his smile fading when he deflected Lupin's curse. "Crucio!" he shouted instantly, and the man writhed on the floor in pain under Greyback's mocking gaze. "You never did have much manners, Remus, despite your English origins. I suppose the British stereotype does not apply to you." He cut his curse short, striding back a few paces to allow the man to stand.

"Obscuro!" Lupin shouted.

"Deflecto!" Greyback countered, and the other man barely had time to put up a shield as his own spell came flying back in his face.

"Siego!" This time he hit target, and the other werewolf threw his head back as his back arched and his feet left the floor to hover in mid-air. He greeted his teeth as the tense on his spine increased, hissing in pain and willing himself to break the curse. Silently, he managed to raise a trembling hand, and with a swipe of his wand threw a hex at the other man. The Death-Eater fell to the floor as the other's spell withdrew, and cracked his back with a face at the man bleeding from a deep gash on his torso and one knee in front of him. The dark mage raised his wand, and just as the magic began to buzz at it's tip, a shout erupted, causing him to stop.

"No!" Hermione yelled at him, striding forward a few steps and raising her own wand. "Stupefy!" The curse flew and hit a surprised werewolf, and she rushed to her Professor's side, sliding down to her knees beside him just as Bellatrix hissed at her.

"Filthy Mudblood! You don't interfere in a Wizarding duel you ignorant little girl!"

The woman stepped forward, about to throw a curse at the impudent, when Voldemort held out a hand in front of her, an amused look on his face as his werewolf lieutenant straightened from the young Witch's curse. Bellatrix smirked when she saw the look of pure fury on his face. She pulled back and watched as he raised his wand at the young Witch, his teeth pulled back over his face on a terrifying snarl. Then Lupin's head shot up, and he threw himself right in front of Hermione, and the green curse that had been aimed for the Golden girl hit him full in the chest, and Hermione threw her arms around him from behind and hugged him against her, crying out the last of her tears for the man who had saved her life once too often. And that night, Teddy Lupin lost both his parents.

***END OF FLASHBACK***

Hermione's leg was throbbing. Although Ron's magic had healed her, it was only temporary, and she knew all too well that her leg would go back to being broken in a matter of minutes, if not seconds.

In front of their group, five Death-Eaters, wands raised, were closing in on them. Three more were behind them, and two on each side. They weren't outnumbered, not yet, but nonetheless they had no chance of winning. None of them, except maybe for Luna, Neville and Hermione herself, were even remotely close to the power that Voldemort's minions possessed. Yet, even though they all knew this, all of their wands were raised. The determination she saw on the faces around her warmed Hermione. She wasn't foolish enough to hope to beat them, or even to hope for a fair fight, but she felt the need to fight for a good cause - _their _cause.

Then one of the Death-Eaters in front of her disappeared - Fenrir Greyback, she thought - and she looked around frantically to locate him. Parvati screamed behind her, and an arm suddenly slipped around her neck, and sharp teeth bit into her flesh. She screamed, her hands fighting the iron grip around her waist and head, and the venom began pouring into her system as the werewolf bit into her. Hermione Granger's eyes rolled back in her head as her friends around her fought curse after curse, unable to do more than defend themselves against the Death-Eaters that were moving in on them faster than they could handle. The venom burned through her, setting her veins and lungs and heart on fire, and she screamed louder, struggling against the searing pain inside her this time.

Greyback held the young witch against him, a little shocked at the furious resistance that she was putting up when the venom should have put her sacked her strength nearly straight away. The transformation carved it's path right through her, turning her scream into something of a roar, and blood began oozing out of her nose and mouth and eyes as she fought still, and Greyback disapparated, bringing her with him into the room that she had managed to escape from. He lay her down on her back on the floor as she screamed and fought against him, straddling her hips and blocking her wrists either side of her head face. For the first time in his long, long life, Fenrir felt concerned for one of his creations. He had never before transformed a woman, much less a Muggleborn or a Witch or Wizard as powerful as the girl in front of him was. Little had any of them known how much more powerful than her DADA teacher she was, but the very second her blood had started pouring down his throat, the taste of her magic had overwhelmed him. It had been so strong, so violent, that he had momentarily been able to _feel_ the core of her magical ability. And it had nearly knocked him off his feet. She herself had no idea how powerful she was. And as his venom turned her into one of his own, he had known that his decision had been the right one. He also knew, at this point, that it would prove nearly impossible to reign her in once she was a werewolf. She would be stronger than Remus Lupin had been, stronger than himself, perhaps. But for a while, her young werewolf self would be easily malleable. She would begin her werewolf life as one of his pack and no memory of her human past, and he would have to use that to his full ability.

Under him, Hermione Granger's mind was reeling. She knew what was happening to her. She had known the moment the werewolf's teeth had raked her flesh and bit into her neck. But she had to stop it. She couldn't become a werewolf, not like this, not when they had just lost the War, not when so many of her friends were in danger of being killed by Voldemort. She arched her back off the floor even as Greyback's thighs held her down and the venom burned through her painfully, and finally freed a hand from the werewolf's grip. Her fingers flew to her chest, smashing hard on the tiny object nestled on it's chain between her breasts. Her eyes rolled back, and she struggled to turn the disk inside the circular golden orb through her clothes, hardly noticing Greyback's hands over her own as he tried to stop her. She screamed one last time, and suddenly the time turner _exploded_ under her hand. The world began to move, and Hermione Granger lost consciousness.

X

She couldn't feel anything.

The first thing that hit her when she woke was that she could not feel a thing. It was as if someone had cut all her appendices off and cut all the nerves that led from her senses to her nervous system. She wasn't even sure where she was until she picked up the courage to open her heavy lidded eyes and glanced up.

She was lying on her back, staring at a bunch of cobwebs grouped together on an old planked off ceiling. She drew in a quick, shaky breath, and suddenly the feelings came back - along with the pain. Her back arched off the cold, uneven floor as wave after wave of agony rippled over her, making her hiss through her teeth and moan loudly in an effort not to scream. And then she was screaming, couldn't hold it off any longer than she already had. It seemed as if molten lava was making it's way through her body, down her every vein and up into her brain. Her bones ached, and she let out a long winding yell of pain as, one after the other, she felt her bones crack and stretch into entirely different shapes.

How had she gotten here? She couldn't remember anything. She raked her mind for anything, any piece of information that might have told her how she had gotten here, but her head was a blank. Her hand snapped flat against the wooden floor, and she winced as a sharp stab of pain shot through her arm. Looking down, she saw pieces of glass and another, shinier material embedded in the flesh of her palm. *Gold*, she realized with a start. _I have shards of gold in my hand!_ Another wave of pain raised her back from the floor, and her next scream vibrated and echoed through the entire...through wherever she was.

It was then that she became aware of another presence by her side. She was too weak to try and look beyond her eye range, but then she blinked and noticed two wide, pale blue eyes above her. When she saw those eyes, a strange emotion caused her frantic heart to skip a beat; a mixture of regret and relief. She didn't know where it came from, but at that moment another long wave of pain clawed at her senses. The eyes above her disappeared for a brief second, and then two hands were pushing down at her shoulders, blue orbs closer to her own than they had been before. They were wide, with surprise she thought, and then she heard a soothing voice into her ear, the boy's soft ash blond hair brushing her face.

"Hey, it's fine, I'm here now," the soft voice said, and she closed her eyes to drink it in. She arched against his hands involuntarily, and then she heard other voices above her own screams. She couldn't make out what they were saying or who was talking. Her vision had gone blurry, and it was all she could do not to scream her head off at every new second that made her agony longer. The boy's voice over her had gone from soothing to frantic, and then the gentle but firm weight on her shoulders vanished, only to be replaced by a more brutal one. Two bright blue eyes framed by long, dark, shaggy hair replaced the pale eyed blonde face, and then her eyes rolled into her head and she saw nothing more.

X

When she opened her eyes again, she was sore all over. Her cheek was burning, and when she reached up to touch it she traced a long winding gash down the side of her face and plunging down her neck and cleavage. Too shocked to do much more than prod, she didn't take in her surroundings for a while, but when she did a string tugged at her brain. She knew the place. She was in a small wooden room, dark wood, old, drafty and weathered. A single blacked out window filtered the rays of the sun, and the closed black door looked just as old as the rest of the room. The fact that she could remember nothing besides the fact that she somehow _knew_ this place, yet could not put a name on it, was disturbing. And then she remembered pale blue eyes over her own, a voice in her ear, - and the pain. The infinite, impossible pain.

She drew in a quick shaky breath.

"Are you okay?"

Startled, she whipped her head to the side, taking in the teenage boy sprawled across a makeshift bed against the wall to her right. She instantly recognised the blond framed blue eyes. The boy's gentle face was covered in scars, across his cheeks, his forehead, one disappearing into the line of his hair after lining the entire left side of his face and tracing his earlobe. His smile was small but natural, soft and inviting. His eyes weren't the kind you'd expect on a boy his age; they were something else altogether, sparkling with age and wisdom, and a tiredness that moved her to her very core. The stirring of emotions that she had first experienced when meeting them did not return, but she felt drawn to him.

She stared into his eyes until she realized that he was waiting for an answer, and she looked away, embarrassed at having been caught staring at him. She cleared her throat to speak, but was taken by a fit of coughing. Instantly the boy was at her side, his hands on her forehead and arm and on one knee beside her exhausted form. He pulled her upright to a sitting position and helped her to lean against the wall behind her, never imposing or brutal but accompanying her movements. He placed a soothing hand on her back then and rubbed circles into her tense muscles, his concerned eyes hovering just above her hunched figure.

"You okay?"

She nodded, not trusting her voice. She concentrated on breathing in and out slowly, her chest heaving with every breath. Her mind was whirling with confusion; at where she was, how she'd gotten here, who was the boy beside her and why did he look so familiar, and, most importantly, _who was she..._

It was then that she realized that the boy's hand on her back was touching bare skin. She froze, staring helplessly down at the rough piece of dark cloth covering her nakedness, and immediately the hand on her back stilled and withdrew. She heard his frown as he spoke.

"I'm sorry. We didn't have anything else to cover you up when you changed back..."

Her head snapped up, whirling at the first thing she noticed in his words.

"We?" She grimaced a little, uncomfortable at the idea that someone else had seen her naked.

"Me and one of the boys," he confirmed, his eyes looking carefully into hers as if confused by something.

She blushed under his gaze. BOYS had seen her naked, she realized. She was turning her head away when something else he had said hit her. She stared at him, unabashed this time.

"Did you say, 'when you changed back?'" Her voice shook a little as she said the words.

The boy took a deep breath, blond bangs covering his right eye, and he sat beside her then, his gaze never leaving hers. He pulled his knees against his chest and rested his head on them. Then he reached out for her, and his fingertips brushed her forehead. Instinctively, she leaned into his gentle touch, and the half smile returned to his face as he watched her. Then his fingers slipped down her face, and she shivered as they slowly traced the scar that started on her right cheek.

"I'm not going to ask you your name," he whispered suddenly, his fingers grazing the base of her neck where the scar disappeared into the dirt-coated blanket, "because I know that you won't remember it. I'm not going to ask you how you came to appear in the middle of the Shrieking Shack out of nowhere with a broken leg either, because I know that you won't be able to give me an answer. And I'm not going to ask you what you remember," he continued softly, and tears began leaking out of her eyes as she watched him," because I know for a fact that your most recent memories are from a few hours ago, and the first thing that you remember is pain, and the first person that you remember, is me." The thumb of his free hand wiped her tears away, and in that moment the young Witch could do little but lose herself in this boy's blue eyes. She opened her mouth, but his hand slid down and he stroked her bottom lip, stopping the words that had been about to cross her lips. "I know this, because we are the same. We're werewolves. And I also know that you were changed by that same werewolf who bit me years ago, because the smell on your bite," and he caressed the wider gash that she had not noticed on the other side of her neck," is the same as the one that was once on mine, and because, even though I know that you have not yet noticed it, our minds are linked. And I know that today was your first transformation, that you had just been bitten. That is why you cannot remember anything of your past."

She looked at him with wide eyes, unable to process completely what he'd just said.

As much as she was afraid to, she couldn't help but admit to herself that she knew this boy was saying the truth. Something about the way he spoke to her, the way his eyes caressed hers as he spoke, and the way his fingertips felt right and natural on her skin, told her that he was saying the truth. That he would NEVER lie to her, no matter what.

_He's a werewolf_, she thought. _We are werewolves._

"Why don't I remember anything?" she asked, the first sensed question she could think of.

"That's what the change does," he said. "You won't remember anything for a few weeks, and then you'll randomly start getting snippets of your past, starting with your name. That's what happened to me..." His voice drifted off and his eyes left hers, wandering into nothingness as his past came back to him. Without thinking, simply acting on her instinct, the Witch lifted a hand and brushed his bangs from his face, and held her fingers on his cheek then, enjoying the warmth of another human being by her side. They smiled at each other, tiny yet confident smiles, acting as if they had known each other forever.

She shifted, and groaned when the skin of her thighs brushed against her sensitive centre.

_Whoa, wait, what? Sensitive centre? Where'd that come from?_

She gasped, and her hand left the boy's face as she looked down at the makeshift blanket covering her. She gaped at herself, testing her soreness and making a heavy grimace when she felt the stickyness and stiffness between her thighs. She looked up, blushing when she met the boy's concerned gaze and tilted head.

"Hum," she tried, biting her bottom lip and blushing furiously, "did we, did our wolves, hum, you know, like..."

The boy looked confused for a moment, one eyebrow arched almost comically. He looked at her for a few seconds, raking his brain for what she could be talking about, before his eyes focused back on her.

"I'm sorry?"

She buried her face on her hands, unable to look at him. She wanted to laugh and cry at the same time at the ridiculous situation.

"I'm sore," she whispered, a little louder than she would have liked.

"Well that's completely normal," the boy mused, a little confused. "After all you _are_ after changing into a creature twice your size and back, if anything it would be abnormal for you-"

She shook her head vigorously, making a strangled sound halfway between a barked laugh and a sob.

"I didn't mean that," she said, her tone veering strangely off pitch.

He waited for her to say something else, but when she didn't he finally noticed the way her legs were twitching uncomfortably. His eyes widened.

"Oh," he managed to say. "_Oh_."

He didn't move for a good minute, processing the fact that his wolf had laid a female wolf, and that that wolf was sitting in human form right in front of him now. And that she was drop dead gorgeous. He nearly chuckled, but caught himself when he realized that she must have been a virgin, that that was how she knew. He blanched, and jumped up when the full implications hit him. He facepalmed himself then, and was startled when he heard a deep chuckle coming from her. He looked down only to find the girl looking up at him, the side of her face still rested again her knees as she laughed. He smiled down at her, and held out a hand to her, all discomfort forgotten.

"I'm Remus," he said to her with a brilliant smile. "Remus Lupin, at your service ma'am." He bowed exaggeratedly in front of her, lowering his head to brush his lips against the back of her hand.

The Witch blushed and giggled before sitting up straight and announcing, in a boasting manner that reminded Remus of himself, "And I, haven't got a clue who I am!"


	2. Chapter 2

_A/N: Hey guys! So, this is chapter 2, I was really happy with all the positive feedback I got for the first chapter, and I really hope you enjoy this as much as I do!_

_First thing, I decided to post this chapter now, because I am leaving for France, for my dad's house, tomorrow afternoon, and I may not have access to a computer for the next two and a half months of holidays. I'll be working 11 hours a day, 6 days a week, meaning that that makes it even less likely that I'll be post anything for the next loong while. So, here's chapter 2 to make it up to you, and hopefully when I get back I'll have a good few more chapters written up that I can post regularly before I catch up with myself!_

_Please R&R, as you can see on my profile I have a good few fanfics going and every new review, follow and favourite makes me eager to write more! :) feel free to message me for questions and anything!_

_Also, a little enlightenment, the four missing DA members mentioned in chapter 1, before Hermione is bitten, are Padma Patil, Harry, Ginny, and Fred. Just thought I'd make that clear. So additions to JK's deaths include Harry, Ginny, Molly, and Padma (I don't think she died in Deathly Hallows). :)_

_Enjoy! :)_

_~Tenshi_

**Chapter 2**

"We have to find you a name," Remus was saying. "If you're going to stay here we can hardly just call you 'you' until you get your memory back."

She giggled into the shirt that he had transfigured for her. They had agreed already that, since it would be the start of the year here at Hogwarts in a month, and she didn't know whether she had anywhere else to go to, they would go to the Headmaster as soon as the others' returned, and ask whether or not she could stay in Hogwarts, and perhaps become a student - at least until she could recover her memories.

They were still in the Shrieking Shack, the place where, she had learned, Remus went for his transformations in order to keep the rest of the school from harm. He told her about the other three boys, Sirius, the dark-haired she had seen the night before, James, and Peter, aka Padfoot, Prongs and Wormtail. She laughed heartily when he told her HIS nickname, Moony, and when asked where the other three had gotten theirs from, she was met with a surprisingly soft voice, and a nostalgia and love in his eyes that made her realize just how linked the four of them were. He explained to her that they were animagii, and at the word the girl found herself reeling with memories of books she didn't know she had read. Facts and researches about animagus spells and forms whirled around her head, filling her with so much knowledge that she wished she knew where it came from. She felt in her heart that she had known _someone_ who had been an animagus, though she couldn't put a face nor a name on the vague familiarity that caught her when she thought of it. She had pushed the thought aside for now though, and regained her hearted smile when Remus started joking about the contrast of Peter's form to the others'. And now here they were, discussing her entry into Hogwarts, and currently her name.

"What do you think of Starry? Or Sunny?" he was still saying. "Do you have any ideas?"

She gave him a bright smile, and said, "Not really. I never really thought about it to be honest. What about...Scarface?" She laughed then, unsure why exactly she found the idea funny, until she saw Remus tilt his head to the side and peer at her through his incredibly long lashes.

"Any reason why you find this funny?"

"I'm...not sure exactly..." She bit her lip, shuffling under his insistent gaze. "Why?" she managed to say.

"Nothing," he mused, a corner of his mouth lifting slightly as he spoke, still watching her, an amused glint in his eyes. Then he turned his head to stare at his feet, a nostalgic look crossing his features, his smile still there, his eyelids drooping.

"What is it?" she said, her tiny laugh answering his mirth.

Remus chuckled, and said, "Stellar..." He looked back at her, his eyes sparkling. "That would be a cool name!" He grinned widely, and she laughed. "Stellar and Moony, the two most amazing werewolves around! What do you think? Is it not the coolest thing ever?"

He kept on grinning and watching her laugh and nod frantically with her hands over her mouth, setting his head back on his knees after a few moments. He closed his eyes, and her fingertips grazed the scar that ran across his forehead and cheek. Remus sighed contentedly, enjoying the feminine touch of skin to skin that so resembled his mother's.

"Remus," the girl whispered, and he shivered to hear his name falling so naturally from her lips.

He opened his eyes. The girl in front of him was beautiful. There was no way he could have denied that, had he even tried. The scar on her cheek was still swollen and red; though he had cast a cleansing and healing spell on it, he knew the scar would remain - just like his did; because they had been made by a werewolf. Her eyes were amber gold with specks of green, so wide that anyone would have gotten lost in them. Her hair was dirty, matted with blood, bushy and unruly, as was her face, but even then it only worked to give her a fierce look, as if she had been in a hundred and one battles and come out of them raging for more. Her face was shadowed in soot, blood and filth, but her fine, thin nose and full lips were enough to make it beautiful. As he stared, Remus resolved that Stellar was indeed the perfect name for her; her eyes seemed to shine with a thousand stars as she looked down into his own.

"Yeah," he whispered back at her, his eyes never leaving hers. "It'll be fine, don't worry. The boys will love you, and trust me when I say that, no matter what happens, you'll always be able to count me as a friend."

He gave her a smile, and the hesitation in her eyes slowly receded, giving way to such a limitless trust and relief that he knew, if he ever came too close to breaking it, he would be breaking _her_ with it. And he resolved never to do anything to betray her.

And something in her wide, doe like eyes made him feel like he'd made the right decision.

He stood to stretch then, and let loose a loud yawn that had her giggling all over again. He grinned, and she jumped up after him, grinning right back at him as if she hadn't just been made a werewolf and her possible hopes in life been ruined with it.

His heart fluttered a little, and he said, "So, Stellar it is, yeah?" He waggled his eyebrows at her comically, for now dismissing the gravity of the situation, and she laughed again. "At least until you remember your name!"

"Yes indeed!"

She beamed at him, and both of them turned to the sound of heavy boots pounding up the creaking stairs. Remus rolled his eyes at her.

"That would be Padfoot. Quite the unfit name if you want my thoughts on it!"

Her booming laugh startled said Marauder as he pushed open the creaky door, and he found the two of them standing, her wearing Muggle jeans and a white t-shirt that showed way too little of her cleavage to his liking, but was, fortunately, transparent enough that he could guess Remus hadn't told her about it. Sirius grinned and winked knowingly at his best friend, who blushed and hunched his shoulders when the girl put a hand on his arm. Sirius observed the girl as she laughed, too distracted to realize that the teenager standing in the doorway was giving her an overly appraising look that would have had her reeling had she met his eye that moment. The girl was thin, with a well marked waist and long trailing legs that had his fingers twitching. The jeans were cut low, revealing a tiny bit of skin and a piece of white fabric from her knickers over her stomach as she laughed. Sirius' breath hitched briefly as he eyed that uncovered patch of milky skin, and he quickly averted his gaze. Meeting his friend's eyes, he jerked his dark curls towards the open door behind him, giving the girl a wink as Remus took her hand and led her through the door. Inwardly, Sirius growled. Remus had a few steps in advance with the witch that he would have to catch up on. The simple way she allowed him to touch her was enough to tell him just how many steps behind him he was.

Just as the witch was passing him out, Sirius took her hand, snatching it out of Remus' grip with a wink for his best friend. The Marauder bowed in front of her, bringing his lips to touch the back of her hand, a grin making his mouth twitch.

"Miss," he greeted her mockingly. "Sirius Black, your devoted vassal! May I enquire of your name?"

She laughed, and he grinned up at her winningly. Then she shot a look at Remus, and Sirius' eyes darkened when his friend nodded to her, as if she needed his permission.

She looked back at him then, squeezing the hand that held hers lightly.

"I'm Stellar." She laughed, and shared a knowing smile with the werewolf, leaving Sirius at a loss. "Or at least that is the name Remus here gave me."

Sirius raised an eyebrow, straightening to shoot a look at his friend.

"The name he _gave_ you?"

"I can't remember mine," she whispered, avoiding his eyes.

She sounded almost guilty, embarrassed, Sirius realized.

"Hey, hey," he whispered, catching her chin in his fingers and gently getting her to look at him in the eyes. "It's not your fault that you can't remember anything. No one's blaming you, love."

The girl looked up at him, her eyes suddenly wide. As he watched, she lifted a hand, and her fingers hovered above his face, her pupils dilated with an emotions he took to be realization and recognition. Sirius looked into her eyes, and blinked a couple of times when her hand began tracing his face, her lips parted just slightly and her free hand still in his, his stomach fluttering.

"Sirius," she whispered, and the look of complete amazement in her eyes was mesmerising. "Sirius Black, son of Wallburga Black, brother to... R. A. B. ... Regulus?"

Remus gasped and surged forward, yanking her from his friend and whirling her around to look at him.

"Are you remembering something?" he all but shouted into her flushed face.

Stellar nodded timidly. "I think so..." She closed her eyes, leaning forward until her forehead was pressed against the other werewolf's chin, and he held her up as her legs shook violently and then buckled. She grasped his forearms, gasping, eyes flashing opened as memories coursed through her. "Hermione," she said in a voice that wasn't hers.

Remus held her close to him as she struggled with the backlash of her memories. His mind was reeling. Why were her memories coming back to her so early? How had she known Sirius when he could see in his friend's eyes that he hadn't the faintest clue who she was? And why exactly had seeing him caused such a strong reaction in her? His heart caught, and Remus tried hard to ignore the pang of jealousy that gripped him. This was not the time. And the witch did _not_ belong to her. He had no right to be jealous.

Finally her breathing became calm again. Her chest heaved against his own, her body pressed flush against his, her head in his chest, his arms around her and hers around him. Trying not to show how much her closeness affected him, he squeezed her waist one last time, reluctantly pulling back from her and lifting her head up to look at him, brushing her hair back from her now sweaty forehead.

"You okay?" he breathed.

She nodded, and opened her mouth, her lips quivering. His gaze lingered on them for a moment, and then he looked up, meeting her eyes.

"I... I remember my name," she whispered. "I think... I think I'm called Hermione. And," she continued just as he was about to speak, "I remember other things too. But it's confusing. Just - names. Impressions. Feelings." She frowned, and Remus thought that she was the cutest thing ever when she did that, her bottom lip protruding and quivering a little. "I remember..." She closed her eyes tightly. "Remus John Lupin, Sirius Orion Black, James... James Merlin Potter... and... Pettigrew..." She drew in a quick breath, her heartbeat turning frantic once again in his ears. He pressed his palm to her hot forehead, but she continued as if she hadn't noticed him. "Severus Snape, Lily Potter, Albus Dumbledore, Bellatrix Lestrange, Lucius Malfoy, Narcissa Malfoy, Andromeda Tonks, Rubeus Hagrid, Minerva McGonagall... I..." Then her eyes rolled back into her head, and she collapsed on him.

Remus gasped as he held her up. She wasn't heavy, far from it, but she still smelled of him, he realized. Of blood, him - and sex. He closed his eyes tightly, struggling not to do something he knew he'd regret later.

"Sirius," he hissed between gritted teeth, "take her. Now."

His friend stepped forward to grab her, and Remus stumbled backwards, grabbing the door frame for balance as he took deep breaths in an attempt to calm himself. Bad idea. Her scent assaulted him, again and again; his eyes zerroed in on her, and he distinctly felt his lips curling back over his teeth, a snarl escaping him as he fought for control of his wolf.

"Moony."

He looked up, meeting his friend's startling blue eyes. Then his gaze drifted back down, hovering over the girl's - Hermione's - shapes. He took in the curve of her breasts, her thin waist and- Remus closed his eyes, taking an involuntary step forward. He felt himself hardening, the strain against his zipper slowly intensifying.

"Moony," Sirius said again. "Get a grip, mate! Snap out of it!"

He blinked, slowly. The grip he still had on the door frame tightened, and with a crack he was left with a large chunk of wood in his hand. He looked down, blood oozing from the cuts that the splinters had made into his skin, dropping to the floor with sickening thuds. He stepped back, shaking his head, holding his breath, avoiding to look at the unconscious girl that his best friend now had a tight grip on from behind. He turned, and all but ran for the door.

"Get her out of here," he snarled over his shoulder. "I'll catch up with you later."

And he disappeared over the frail balustrade of the downward steps.

X

He'd nearly hurt her.

He'd been close to losing it, and he knew that. Without Sirius there, he'd have fucked the girl senseless whether she'd liked it or not. He'd have ripped her clothes off and taken her again, regardless of anything else besides the need - the _lust_ - that was still building up in his gut and coiling in his lower stomach. He'd been that close... He closed his eyes as images of what could have happened flew through his mind, relying on his heightened senses to direct himself and avoid obstacles as he ran. Once he was far enough into the Forbidden Forest, he stopped, placed his hands against the nearest tree, which was several feet thick, and braced himself. The tree shook, and as he gritted his teeth and pushed, his muscles bulging with the strain, beads of sweat popping on his brow, it's roots ripped out of the earth. The tree groaned audibly as it fell back, and Remus himself uttered a long, winding shout as he pushed, the effort exhausting him and the wolf that was still raging for it's fill inside of him.

Then finally he fell to his knees in front of the uprooted tree, the strain proving too much for him. He stared down at his hands helplessly, his gut clenching when he thought of how much control he'd lost back there, how much control he'd _allowed_ himself to lose. He remembered how frail she had looked in his arms, her thin structure, so light, so _vulnerable_, that he had almost forgotten himself. Remus drew in a shaky breath. He steadied himself with the trunk of the half collapsed tree and stood slowly, bracing himself for the onslaught of memories and emotions that he knew was coming. Her name sang in his head endlessly - _Hermione_, _Hermione_... The way _his_ name had rolled off her tongue echoed inside him, and he found himself panting for breath as images of the girl flashed before his eyes. His fingers dug into the bark as he clenched his fists, and his already bruised and cut hands suffered a little more. The pain momentarily distracted him, and he whipped his head up to watch his fingers, buried deeply inside the trunk like it was butter.

Then he remembered the scars he'd seen on her back, her chest, all over her, gashes cut deeply into her by repeated hexes. Scars given solely to inflict pain, to torture her, to break her. And he'd seen the word carved into her arm. _Mudblood_, it had claimed. _Mudblood_, _Mudblood_, _Mudblood_. The word had rang in his head again and again. He'd clenched his fists and struggled not to break the hold he'd had on his wolf, fury mounting into him like a tidal wave threatening to flood his senses. Fury against those who had thought it funny to torture her, to _hurt_ her. To mark her like an animal, _like she was nothing more than cattle_, a piece of _meat_ led to _slaughter_. His gut had twisted as he watched her sleep, and he'd silently counted the scars on her body, snarls ripping through his teeth with every new one he found. Then he'd ran out the door and retched violently, sickened, disgusted and revulsed at the knowledge of what she'd had to go through. The girl he'd named Stellar might not know who she was, where she came from, but now he, Remus Lupin, by some twisted will of fate, knew more about her than anyone else - including herself. He'd glamoured the scars to hide them from their very bearer, wanting in his heart to give Hermione a new chance at life. He did not want anyone judging her for something she did not even remember. Not anymore. Something that shouldn't have mattered either way, bad that did. It wasn't fair, and he knew it. So he'd hidden all of her scars, save the more recent on on her cheek. He'd given her another chance, a second life, at least for the time being - until she recovered her memories.

Remus sighed and closed his eyes, his grip on the bark loosening. His arms fell limp by his side, and he started walking.

X

"Hey, Hermione? Um, that's your name right?"

"I think so at least."

"Well... You know, the names you said back there, in the Shack... How did - I mean - huh..."

The girl looked up at him, raising a curious eyebrow.

"Yes?"

Sirius bit his lip before saying, "Bella, and Narcissa... Their name is Black. How did you know about their engagements? They're not even married yet."

Her brow furrowed, and her look became distant.

"I don't even know who these people are, Sirius," she whispered, looking down at her feet as they walked. "I was just...saying the names that popped into my head. I don't know who they are, or even what they look like. All I know - is the names."

She looked away, wringing her hands together absently.

"And," Sirius continued, "you said Andromeda _Tonks_? I don't know any magical family whose name is Tonks. I haven't heard of her being engaged.

His tone wasn't accusing, but made Hermione feel guilty nonetheless. She shrugged absently, trying hard not to look at him, her head turned away and fidgeting with the hem of her shirt. Sirius stopped her then, whipping out an arm in front of her and effectively interrupting her strides. He stepped in front of her and took both her forearms in his hands, looking down at her carefully.

"Hermione, no one is blaming you."

She opened her mouth, but he placed a finger on her lips.

"Don't speak, please. Just let me finish. This isn't your fault. You appeared bruised and bloodied in the middle of the night, in a place you didn't know, with barely any memory of what could have been your past. You'd just been bitten by a werewolf, the same as Moony if I understood that correctly, and you had to go through your change almost immediately after your bite. Meaning that it was a hundred times more painful than it should have been. You don't know who you are. For some reason you know us, and other people besides. For some reason," he continued as she was about to speak again, "you know things that most of the people who aren't amnesiac don't, and you know the names of people that I'm fairly sure don't know you - for example myself. _But_," and he paused for a fraction of a second, emphasizing the word, "there is no way anyone is blaming you. I was stupid to ask you how you knew about my cousins' engagements, but don't you dare think that any of this is your fault, because it is most certainly not! Understood?"

The girl was looking up at him with wide eyes, arms limp by her side and no longer fidgeting. She watched him for a few more seconds before saying, "Thank you..._Padfoot_." And she threw her arms around his waist.

Taken aback, Sirius stood as stiff as a plank for a moment before catching himself and hugging her back. "You are welcome..._Stellar_." When she pulled away, he gave her a wide grin and started walking again.

"Come on now mysterious Witch!" And he playfully gave her ass a pinch, making her squeal and blush in surprise as she jumped. They both laughed, walking up the sentier from the Whomping Pillow to Hogwarts. Then Hermione halted abruptly, and, looking around, caused Sirius to stop and look at her curiously. "Did Peeves pinch you?"

She gave him an odd look. "Who's Peeves?"

"Peeves the Poltergeist. Our very own resident ghost."

Her eyes widened. "Ghost?" she squeaked weakly.

"We have loads of them," he taunted, amused at her horrified expression.

She closed her eyes forcefully, resting her head in her hands. "Fine," she said, her voice muffled by her hands. "Scare me all you want, Padfoot, after all I'm the werewolf."

"What's that supposed to mean?" he asked suspiciously.

She raised her head suddenly to look at him, a mischievous grin on her face that had Sirius' heart skipping a beat. She looked way too much like a Marauder at that moment for him not to care.

"Werewolves are of the few creatures that can touch ghosts, even in human form." She winked at him playfully. "I'm sure if you'd only been paying attention to Binns' History of Magic you'd know that. Or If you'd even asked Remus. Not that I'd expect you to be listening at all!" Then she stopped talking, her eyes wide like she'd just grown a second head. Sirius was staring at her like she'd just used that head to fart, his eyes bulging out. "Did I just...?"

"I think you did," he confirmed, feeling slightly dazed. "We can now confirm without a doubt that you are a student at Hogwarts. Or were, at least. Old Binns has been teaching here for eons. Was there when the Dragon was still a Snake, I reckon."

"The Dragon?"

Sirius flashed a grin. "My dear old mum, Walburga Black! Be glad you won't ever have to meet her, my dear Stellar." He winked at her. "Unless, of course, you plan on accepting my marriage proposal. I'm afraid meeting my mother will then be required by protocol. Not that I give a Thestral's bullocks about protocol!"

Hermione wrinkled her nose distastefully. "You make my head hurt."

"I'll take that as a compliment, my dearest werewolf! Now what were you going to say when you started sniffing the air like a dog?"

She glared at him. "I was not sniffing like a dog!"

"Were so!"

"Was not!"

"Were!"

"Not!"

"Were!"

"Ugh!" She threw her hands up in despair. "Never mind! I don't know why I bother! There's no point in arguing with you, is there?"

He shook his head gravely. "Nope, there isn't. Now are you going to tell me or shall I pour some Veritaserum in your pumpkin juice?"

"Does it look like I have pumpkin juice on me?"

"No, why?"

Hermione rolled her eyes. "Whatever. What I was going to say before you started talking about ghosts," she began, raising her eyebrows at him and daring him to interrupt her, "Remus is coming."

Sirius perked up immediately. "How do you know that?"

"I'm...not sure exactly. When I woke up, he said that...our minds were linked, that I hadn't realized it yet." She paused thoughtfully. "I think I know what he meant now. I can _feel_ him... I know he's coming." She looked back at the black-haired boy in front of her. "Sirius, what happened exactly back there? I don't remember anything after my...outburst." She grimaced slightly at the word.

"Moony had a little...fit, let's say," he mused, winking at her. "From what I understand, your little party last night had a lingering effect on him."

The girl blushed crimson, her eyes growing wide. "You...you know about that?"

His grin widened. "Course I do! I was there love!"

"Oh no, oh no," she began stammering, her head buried in her hands. "This is a nightmare, please, let me wake up!"

Sirius laughed as she hid her face from him. He stepped up to her and took her hands from her face gently, tipping her chin back to look at him.

"Don't worry about it," he said, "you could really have fallen on a worst shag than Remus. At least he's the kind to respect you. He's a good person, Hermione. He'll take care of you." He brushed the hair from her face delicately before releasing her, and she stood there, still, as he walked on ahead of her, allowing her time to think.

What had he meant? Did he really...see her and Remus as - some kind of a couple? She didn't remember doing anything with him, for Merlin's sake! Hell, she didn't even remember who she _was_! All she knew was that she was here, in a world not entirely her own, where she knew things she wasn't supposed to know, and had only remembered her own name in the middle of some kind of panic attack! She thought back then to the moment she'd met his eyes. He'd been right - he was the first thing she remembered. As if she'd just woken up a few hours before and the first thing she'd seen was him. His pale blue eyes, his thin face, his scars, his sandy, fine hair falling over his ears... Remus was her first memory. Her first anchor. The first tangible thing that could hold her afloat. Whereas the rest of this place didn't seem real to her, like she didn't belong there, Remus seemed...out of time. Though she didn't know him as such - after all she'd only just met him a few hours before -, she knew he was right when he'd said that they had a link. And, right now, that link was the only thing that held her afloat. And when she'd met his eyes for the first time, or at least what _seemed_ the first time, she'd felt like she belonged here. Like she'd known him all her life and had met him all over again a few hours ago. They had a link, there was no doubt about that. And maybe the tingle of recognition she'd felt on seeing him was only because a part of her had recognised him as one of her people - as a werewolf, even though the conscious part of her brain had known nothing about it. She could feel his presence, sense when he was near, when he was looking for her. She knew that if she'd tried to find him, to go to him, she'd have walked right to wherever he was, even blindfolded. She knew he'd been thinking about ever since she'd woken up in Sirius' arms, twenty minutes earlier. The nagging feeling at the back of her head had been enough of an indication. And now, she knew he was walking up to them. She knew he was still in the Forbidden Forest, where he'd been angry and had let his wolvish anger control him for a short length of time. During that time, his emotions had been enhanced. It was HIS anger in the back of her head that had woken her up. HIS emotions. His nearing presence even now was making her hands tingle. But Sirius' understatement...that they were a couple... Hermione shook her head, clutching her temples with her hands. No, she decided. Her and Remus were not a couple. She didn't know herself, and she certainly didn't know him enough. Not for that.

And then she felt him nearing, and she whipped her head to the side, all thoughts of what she had just been pondering forgotten, and gave him her brightest and widest smile.


	3. Chapter 3

_A/N: YAY! A new update!_

_So yes, I'm in France finally, and I asked to use my dad's computer because I was absolutely ECSATIC at all the positive feedback I got from this story! I actually showed him the stats and he agreed with me :') so ya, I'm happy :')_

_On an aside note, I have a little sister, called Meiline, and she is sooo cute :') she was born on the 8 June 2013 I love her so much :')_

_I'm really happy with how this chapter ended up. The plot is really starting to build up in my head, I have all the different twists up there somewhere just waiting to be put down on paper. I had this dream like three nights ago that's helped me place down THE major plot (I'll most likely explain when I get to it in an author note)._

_So, hope you enjoy the third chapter. I would like to dedicate this chapter to reader and reviewer Divergent-Slytherin-Victor, who's really helped me pile up enthusiasm for this chapter, which I wrote in like two days thanks to him! x) thank you!_

_Enjoy!_

_~Tenshi_

**Chapter 3**

"I'm nervous."

Remus looked at her curiously, ash blond bangs falling over his eyes as he cocked his head to look at the girl sitting beside him.

"About what?"

"Meeting the Headmaster."

He chuckled. "No need to be, Hermione. Professor Dumbledore is one of the wisest men I've ever met. If there's one person you can trust, it's him."

"Yes, but... I don't know. I just... This place... There's something about it..."

Hermione shivered, wrapping her arms around herself and leaning back against the wall. Remus shifted closer to her on the couch, extending a hand to put it on her knee.

"Hermione," he said quietly, leaning forward to look at her under her eye lashes, "you're safe. I don't know why you don't like the castle, but I can assure you that no attack has been successful on it for a long, long time - not since 1066, actually."

She looked up at him hesitantly, her big hazel eyes curious. "The Battle of Hastings, right?"

"Correct," he confirmed. "Did you just remember that?"

She shrugged and looked away, pulling her legs into her chest to wrap her arms around them and rest her chin on her knees. "I don't want to talk about it."

Remus stared at her silently for a few seconds before taking a deep breath. "Hermione," he began cautiously, "I know what it feels like not to remember anything. I was a werewolf before you and I - I was lost for so long... I wasn't as lucky as you are. I didn't come around to remembering my name for over three months, much less anything else. Greyback held me captive for those three months, and when I recovered my memories and he had still not broken me, he let me go. But for those three months, I was helpless. I remembered nothing. Virtually _nothing_. I had to learn how to walk, talk, breathe, learn about being not only a normal person, but a wizard _and_ a werewolf. The fact that none of those things applied to you, that you were able to talk and act normally, that the only part of your mind that was taken was your un-tamed section, your most recent memories of events and the like, says a lot. You remember your name," he murmured with emphasize on each word. "You remember places, names, you have feelings, impressions, long term memories, things you learnt at school - whatever school that was. You remember magic. You have some kind of memory. You have something to hold on to."

He leaned into her again, tipping her chin up with his fingers and looking straight into her wide, doe-like eyes. She looked so weak, so frail... At that moment, Remus felt the overwhelming need to protect her. To be by her side, to stay with her, no matter what happened to pull them apart. "Hermione, you're strong. Even if your memories aren't pleasant, you can _choose_ to ignore them, or to go on with them and remember bits of a past that doesn't belong to you - at least for now. You can wait another two or three months for all of your memories to come back. You can live with us for now, choose to remain oblivious to the flashes of awareness that will pop into your head every so often - and when the time comes you will remember - but only if you _have_ to. If you _want_ to. This is your choice. You can be who you _want_ to be. And when the memories _do_ come back - then you will be able to choose whether to go on ignoring them, or to take them into account and do what ever you want with them. But until that day, the tiny bits of memories you get occasionally will be your choice to remember or not. You can control it. You may not realize as much, and you may not be even able to control them for now, but you will - very soon. And we're here to help you get through this. The boys and I - we will do anything to help you through this." A corner of his lips twitched a little as he fought back a grin. "Or at the least I will. There's no telling what the guys will think. But from now on," he finished, his expression serious once more as he looked into her eyes, "you are part of my family. I'll look after you. I'll be beside you anytime you need me. I won't let you down," he whispered, his eyes shining with a new determination that had her believing in him, blindly, absolutely, limitlessly.

Then loud steps echoed again, just as they had earlier that day, and both of them jerked apart and whirled around to watch a tall, gangly teenager bounding down the stairs, his black, shoulder long locks glistening in the morning light.

"Prongs is awake," he said casually. "I can't believe he'd fallen asleep! I was up there less than an hour ago to tell him I was out to meet you and he was out like a lamp before his head hit the pillow!" Sirius shook his head dramatically. "Head Boy my ass," he huffed, "wasn't even able to nick Filch's keys yesterday. How the hell are we supposed to pull that prank on the snakes without the keys to Slughorn's office?" He turned to them then, a glint in his eyes as he saw them both looking at him, sitting awkwardly on the couch, certainly not looking like two people who'd had ten minutes to make themselves comfortable. "What are you two at?" Sirius raised an eyebrow inquiringly. "Were you making out again?"

Hermione blushed and looked away quickly, while Remus just laughed outright at his friend, all traces of the gravity that had previously tainted his voice gone.

"Making out?" he repeated sarcastically. "You really expect us to be making out in the middle of the Head chambers, with a person we've only met hours before?"

Sirius shrugged. "I do it all the time."

Remus rolled his eyes. "Yes, Padfoot, _you_ do it all the time. Except I'm not a flea covered, desperate, barking mess."

"I don't have that much fleas," he huffed indignantly. "I have tender skin is all."

Remus raised a sarcastic eyebrow at his friend. When Sirius silently dared him to disagree, both eyebrows raised at him and arms crossed over his chest, Remus chuckled under his breath. He looked about to say something when James came running down the steps, half colliding into Sirius at the bottom of the flight of stairs. Rubbing his nose and cursing under his breath as he readjusted his glasses, the black-haired boy looked around, finally noticing his friend and the girl he'd seen transforming the night before. Looking at her now, the only thing that would have made him suspect her condition, had he not been there to see her as a werewolf for himself, was the scar running along her cheek and neck. He wasn't sure what she had looked like without the scar - he'd only gotten to the Shack after her and Remus' transformation - but even with it, she was beautiful. Her eyes were a deep hazel, and though she was hunched over herself in exhaustion, something in her face and the way her hand was gripped over her pocket where he knew her wand to be told him that there was more to her than met the eye.

"Stellar, right? I'm James," he said, walking up to her and sticking his hand out, something only his father usually did.

The girl looked up and took his hand, standing up somewhat shakily to meet his gaze. Her eyes flickered up to meet his, and James was surprised when they met his head on, boring into them with a silent, unspoken challenge. He raised his eyebrows slightly at her, silently questioning her motives. She knew more than she was letting on. When she nodded a fraction in answer, James immediately felt like he could trust her. He could see she'd already struck up a bond with Remus; the boy had stood with her and was now standing close to her, though his head was turned and he seemed to be silently communicating with Sirius across from them, both their arms crossed over their chests as James and the girl shook hands.

"Stellar is right," the girl said, her voice surprisingly soft though it had an edge of steel to it.

"It's Hermione actually." Remus had interrupted his silent conversation with Padfoot, and was now staring right at James. "Stellar isn't her name. Hermione is."

Looking pointedly into his friend's eyes, Remus winced a little in surprise when the girl pinched his cheek, rolling her eyes.

"Remus, it's fine. Let's just say I have two names, 'kay?" She planted a smacking kiss on his cheek, and he blushed, fighting a smile. She flashed a knowing grin at Sirius, knowing exactly why James had thought her name to be Stellar, and turned back to Remus. "So, why were we here again?"

Raising an eyebrow, James turned to his black haired friend. "You didn't tell her?"

The boy shrugged, indicating clearly that he didn't see that as _his_ job.

"Those two all but dragged me here," was Hermione's playful accusation.

"Why am I not surprised," James drawled. "Come on. If you're going to meet the Headmaster, you better be going in clean and presentable. Follow me. There _are_ advantages to being Head Boy after all!"

Hermione raised an eyebrow. "You guys are in seventh year?"

Remus and James froze at that, staring at her dumbfounded, while Sirius just grinned like a madman.

"Prongs, Moony, it's fine." When Remus turned to him with an accusing glare, Sirius put his hands up in front of him. "Hey, it's cool mate. All I'm saying is that we've already figured out that she is or was a Hogwarts student."

This clearly did nothing to lighten the werewolf's mood. "And when exactly did you 'figure that out'?" he snarled, immediately realizing that he had no right to be mad at his friend for knowing something that he didn't about the girl, but maintaining his glare nonetheless not to lose his face in front of her.

Returning the glare and having come to the same realization as had Remus, Sirius snapped, "After you ran off into the woods like a dog with it's tail between it's legs! Quite literally, too!"

"You're one to make dog imageries aren't you, Padfoot?!" Remus half yelled right back, guilt fading into anger at his friend's taunt.

"Remus! Sirius! Quit it, _now_!"

Both of them turning to James, they gave matching yelps of horror when the scene reached them. In front of them, Hermione had fainted , half slumped into James' arms who had stepped in on time to catch her from behind as she twisted on herself and collapsed. Now she was convulsing, her body arching up and her eyes revulsing back into her head, her fingers clasped tight on James' hands around her waist, to the point where she was digging her nails into his palms and making him curse lightly under his breath. Her legs were trashing about, slipping on the floor in every direction as James' held her just above the floor and pressed her back against his chest. She wasn't making a sound, and that was what frightened Remus the most. In his heart, he had the gut feeling that she had learned to go through pain silently. He remembered the scars on her body, and swore to himself that he'd find the bastard that had done that to his witch, and, for once, would let Moony have his way with the fucking son of a bitch.

He stepped forward and quickly stilled her legs, reaching out with his mind to her through their bond, only to be met by a barrier that could only have been that of a skilled Legilimens. Thrown back on his feet a little, completely taken aback by the force of her shield, he crouched down in front of her, holding her legs still under one arm. He reached out with his free hand, and touched his fingers to her forehead. Instantly, the girl stopped convulsing. Then she arched her back and head, sliding his fingers along her face as she threw her face back, and startled the four boys out of their minds by catching his fingers in her mouth. Drawing in a sharp breath and holding it, Remus watched, completely stunned, as she licked and bit at his fingers lightly, her eyes still closed, sucking his middle finger in fully. And then his eyes widened in horror when his body reacted to the feel of her tongue swirling around his finger and the sounds she was making. He jerked back, jumping to a standing position and holding his hand against his chest like he'd just burned himself, and the girl's eyes fluttered open as he stood there staring down at her with his eyes wide.

James was looking down at her face, still holding her against him, looking absolutely transfixed, and his was the first gaze she met. She frowned a little in confusion as she saw the look on his face, and then her eyes widened.

"James," she whispered uneasily, squirming uncomfortably against him, "you're-"

He jerked back quickly, and she fell back, startled, just about stopping her head from hitting the ground by bracing her hands on the ground. Straightening to a sitting position, she avoided the dark haired boy's eyes carefully as a blush crept up her cheeks. Just as she was about to push herself up, her hand came into contact with Remus' shoes, and she looked up at him, confused again when she saw him just standing there with his hand cradled against his chest and staring straight down into her eyes.

Her eyes flickering over the hand and back to his face, she said, "Remus, what happened to your hand?" When he didn't answer and both other boys also remained silent, her brow furrowed. "Okay, what the hell did I do now?!"

Finally kicking into action, Sirius pushed himself off the wall he'd been leaning against and strode towards her quickly, nudging Remus' shoulder with his own before bending over to help her up. "Nothing Stell. Bad time of the month is all."

She raised her eyebrow as she caught his hand and pulled herself upwards. "For all three of you?"

"I do believe _we_ should be the ones asking you what just happened, love," Sirius answered with a smirk he hoped looked casual. He was desperately trying to hide the effect she had had on _him_. Though he could see his lame joke hadn't satisfied her in the least for an answer, he couldn't very well explain that they'd just gotten hard watching her give Remus' middle finger a fantastic blow job while making very sexy moans. _Okay, don't think about that. Bad idea. Yep. McGonagall in a bra. Dumbledore in briefs. Slughorn stripping on our table in the Great Hall. In the middle of dinner. Covered in chicken sauce. In a tub of ice cream. Oh Merlin. This is _so_ not working._ Suppressing a frustrated groan at the massive erection he was now sporting, and realizing that their proximity was certainly not helping, Sirius forcefully took her hand in his despite the desperate warning signals his body was sending his brain, and dragged her out of the Prefects' common room, ignoring her protests and cutting off the answer she'd been just about to give them. The fact that she was now unconsciously sending out wave after wave of magical energy was not doing anything in his favour either.

Dragging her down the corridors and moving stairs, Sirius found himself resisting the urge to turn around, shove her against a wall and crash his mouth down onto hers. Shaking his head, he continued ignoring her protests as well as his own, until the moment where she jerked to a stop and whirled him around to face her. She was fuming. Her lips were pressed together into a thin line, eyes ablaze with fury at being dragged by the hand like a child. Just as he was taking in her angered state, she ripped her hand from his grip and marched off down the stairs, leaving him planted in his spot behind her. After a surprised second, Sirius rushed after her, catching up just as she was changing staircases.

"Hermione!"

When she ignored him, he grabbed her arm, and she turned around and promptly slapped him across the face before marching off again. Stunned, he lost another second contemplating the fact that she had just slapped him before starting after her again. When he grabbed her arm once more, he shoved her against a wall before she could free herself and possibly slap him again, blocking her wrists in his hands above her head and pressing his body into hers to stop her from moving. She stilled instantly, glaring at him but knowing that there was no way she would escape him if he really meant to keep her there.

"Right. Let's talk now, okay Stell?"

"Oh, _now_ you wanna talk do you?" she snarled at him, not in the least conciliatory. "You couldn't possibly _explain_ what the fuck happened up there, you know, what normal people would do? Instead of dragging me down the stairs like a bloody cave man?!"

_If she keeps moving against me like that, this is not going to end well_, was Sirius' only coherent thought as she ranted away and struggled in his grip.

"Stop moving!" he ended up shouting in her face, interrupting her passionate tirade. Sighing in relief when she did what he had asked, he continued, "Thank you. Now I'm going to be the one asking you what caused you to have a fit and start thrashing about in the middle of the Heads' common room?"

She sneered at him. "I asked first."

"I don't give a goblin's _fuck_ who asked first. I'm asking you now, 'Mione, and you're gonna answer whether you like it or not. You were remembering something, weren't you? You looked like someone was hurting you! Like you were seeing something - or someone - that you were trying to escape from! We were bloody _scared_, 'Mione. So now I'm asking you a question, and the only reason I'm asking you it is to make sure that you're okay, that we were worried for nothing. So please, please answer it."

Her eyes wide, the girl was staring at him with wide eyes, a little breathless. Her lips were parted slightly, her eyes straight into his. She relaxed against him and lowered her head, looking away from him.

"Yes. I was remembering something. But I'd rather not talk about it." When she sensed he was about to say something, she shook her head, and her voice shook when she said, "Please Sirius. I...I'm not ready." She looked back up at him, eyes searching his. "_Please_."

Wordlessly, Sirius nodded at her. He could see that something wasn't right, that she had seen something that had changed her view of them. He wasn't going to press the issue just now. He'd give her a while to get her mind around it. But he was going to get his answer, sooner or later. So he let it slip. For now.

Giving him a tiny smile, she suddenly froze in place, her eyes a little wide and tainted with a slightly crazed look. Her smile became strained, and she squirmed against him.

"Sirius," she breathed, "can you, please, move off me?" When he just stared at her, she closed her eyes tight shut. Then she rolled her hips into his, highlighting the fact that he was still pressed against her...and was still sporting an erection. Groaning when her hips ground into his hardened length, Sirius found himself leaning his lower body more into hers, pressing the bulge in his pants against her centre. Her eyes flew open and locked with his, her lips parting as his weight against her pressed the breath out of her lungs. "Sirius," she gasped, "what are you doing?"

He leaned down on her, edging his mouth to her right ear where he took her ear lobe between his teeth, sucking on it lightly as she struggled against his grip on her wrists. "Sirius," she gasped again, "don't." Hands slipping down her arms and along her sides, he ignored her, only more turned on when her now freed hands started pushing on his shoulders and torso. Drawing in breath when he grabbed her ass and massaged the cheeks, she moaned despite herself, his erection still pressed against her throbbing centre. "Fuck," she breathed, arching into him.

"'Mione," Sirius moaned, hands skimming up inside her shirt. His mouth slipped along her face, lips parted, breath brushing her skin. He brushed her scar over her other cheek, tongue flicking out gently over the crevice. Then their lips met. They didn't kiss; mouths opened, breathlessly resting against each other, breaths mixing, eyes staring into the other's. When he took his bottom lip between his front teeth and released it with a slight pop, Hermione moaned and threw her head back, rolling her hips into his, sending waves of pleasure up his groin and coiling in his lower stomach. "Fuck it, 'Mione," Sirius cursed under his breath. "You tell me to stop and then you - you're not helping me here, you know that, right? 'Mione..."

"Sirius," she gasped again. "Remus-"

His mouth snapping shut, Sirius drew back his hands, jaw taut and fingers tense on her bare hips. He pulled back his head slightly. "Right."

"No," she said quickly, "I don't mean that. I mean he'll feel it, and we-"

"Never mind," Sirius snapped, interrupting her and pulling back completely, leaving her to lean back against the wall, breathless and a little dishevelled.

Hermione's legs were shaking, and she was half sitting down now, marvelling at the force of the desire that Sirius had initiated in her. Then it hit her. Sirius had told her earlier that Remus would be good for her. He had verbally approved of their relationship, even though there was none. He had been nearly pushing her into his best friend's arms not an hour earlier, and nonetheless had just shoved her against a wall and started snogging her senseless. Anger mounting and erasing the confusion and desire she was feeling for Sirius, she stood, her legs newly stable and her gaze fixed in Sirius' darkened eyes. She walked over to him calmly, stuffing her anger deep inside her in an attempt to understand him. She surprised him by cradling his face in her hands and resting her forehead against his, his hands automatically going around her waist and pulling her in. But Hermione kept a same distance from him though, allowing only their foreheads to touch and his hands to rest in the small of her back.

Squeezing her eyes shut tightly, she suppressed a sob as their breaths mingled again, a new softness crawling it's way into her heart as Sirius' breath shook with a barely hidden sadness. "Hey," she whispered, "hey, Pads, it's fine, all right? It's okay, nothing happened, it's-"

"_Nothing happened_?!" he hissed at her, pulling her flush against him and digging his fingers into her skin. "_Nothing happened_?! You must be joking!"

And then, just as she was opening her mouth to say something, he crashed his mouth down on hers, forcing his way through her lips with his tongue, pushing down on her mouth with his and forcing her back against the wall they had just left. When she moaned and answered his kiss despite herself, with just as much strength and desperation as he had, he pulled back, leaning his forehead into hers just as she had done seconds before.

"Nothing happened, still, huh, 'Mione?" he murmured to her, lips pulling back into a half hearted smile.

She shook her head, tears escaping her closed eyelids, not as much answering his question as trying to convince herself. Brushing back the hair from her forehead, Sirius understood the dilemma she was in. He had a feeling that the link between his best friend and the witch was more than he was letting on. The fact that they could feel each other's emotions when at their strongest was seriously hindering, and was also a commonly used tool for lovers in the 17th century to join their pleasure during sex and make it twice as strong, before the spell to artificially create that link was declared illegal by the Ministry for Magic. Till yesterday night, he had been unaware that the only form of that link that now existed naturally was between wolves with the same Alpha or creator; pack members, essentially. But Moony had explained to him how it worked after they had covered up the girl - well, Moony had; he hadn't actually allowed Sirius to come anywhere close to her while she was naked - and apparently, though now she was too young a werewolf to control it fully, their link could transfer not only emotions, but thoughts as well, from one to the other. With a bit of practice, Remus and Hermione would be able to have full blown conversations without actually being anywhere near each other, and without making a sound or opening their mouths. And that pissed him off royally. That they had this sort of connection, as she had just pointed out, stopped them from doing anything more than snogging. Not that he wanted to, Sirius admonished himself. She was hot, but he didn't want to shag her. As he had told her earlier, her and Moony were good together. Their link made it that much more obvious.

Didn't it?

He pulled back, not letting her answer. He caught her hand gently and pulled on it, resuming their way down to the Prefects' bathroom where they had been headed.

It was as if nothing had happened, and would stay that way for a long, long time.


	4. Chapter 4

_A/N: General call: guyz, __**I need a Beta.**__ So if any of you are qualified, able and have time to spare, please PM me straight away, I'd be eternally grateful! :D xD Thank you!_

_**To reviewer jmullinax**__: this is neither and both There are going to be a LOT of pairings in this fic, since I plan on making it _long_. I mean _long_. Like at least 70 chapters, probably more. Hermione will be with Sirius, will also be with Remus at one point, and a few others besides whom I shall not reveal just yet She will have a definite pairing towards the end, but I'm not saying who that is either but thank you for asking though!_

_**To reviewer**__**JuliaLestrange**__: Thank you! for her wand, answered here! And the rest of your questions shall be answered in later chapters! It's another month till the start of the school year in Hogwarts thus far, so she won't be sorted for another while! and, your english is fine, don't worry about it, I'm half French and half Japanese meself and I can speak English perfectly, you only have to practice and you'll be speaking english like it was your first language in no time!_

_**To reviewer**__**Abanko**__: I got this idea while reading _A Darkly Slanted Mirror_, by _EAnnajeRETURNS_! It's an amazingly written story really, I absolutely loved it! And I'm currently reading the sequel, _A Thinly Drawn Veil_, which is still in writing! Then I read _The Last Marauder_, by _Resa Aureus_, which inspired me a little for Sirius and Hermione's relationship, as well as Remus' and Hermione's, and a few things besides. It's also amazing! And in general, the fanfic _The Marriage Stone_ by _Josephine Darcy_, which, as far as I'm concerned, is one of the best written fanfics EVER, was the first fanfic to really inspire me to write Harry Potter fanfiction. _Josephine Darcy_ is (was) an amazingly talented writer, and every word and chapter I write seeks to reach her level of talent. Unfortunately, it's also unfinished, and has been for nearly five years if I remember correctly. So yes, if you want an idea of how I came to write this, go and read those three lol, and if you leave reviews tell them to go check THIS story out, I'd be forever grateful! xD x)_

_**Disclaimer**__: I do not own Harry Potter, or any of the characters from it. These were created by our Queen, JK Rowling, may the magical adventure she embarked us on remain in the heart of humanity forever 3 I own only the situations they find themselves in and the conversations they have._

_~Tenshi_

* * *

**Chapter 4**

"So, this is the Prefects' bathroom, uh? It's..."

"I know; it's massive."

"That's a euphemism, Sirius."

Hermione and Sirius were standing in the afore mentioned bathroom, Hermione staring in unmasked wonder at the king sized tub and twenty or so different taps, Sirius looking amused at her starry-eyed display, chuckling under his breath as the girl walked around trailing her fingers on everything. He watched, one corner of his mouth twitching, leaning against the wall near the statue of Boris the Bewildered, his arms crossed against his chest as was his habit. He knew what she was feeling; he had been in her place in his third year when the Marauders had broken into the Prefects' bathroom after bribing the little brother of a fifth year Prefect for the password. He had looked at everything the same way she was doing now, overwhelmed by the luxury and size of the place. Now he was used to it. He had used the place many times ever since then, every time having to bribe another sibling of a Prefect and dreaming of the day when, they all knew it, James would be named Head Boy. The only downturn to the fact that he had indeed become Head Boy, was that the Head Girl was someone that he, Moony and Wormtail dreaded about as much as Prongs drooled after her: Lily Evans.

The girl was a rule-minion. She followed the school rules by the letter and had, many times before, caught them in the middle of a prank or another and ruined their plans by getting right in the middle of them. She was a terror, though Prongs was absolutely oblivious to the fact that the Gryffindor Princess hated all four of them with her a passion. Except perhaps Peter. The cruel bitch seemed to have a definite soft spot for the smallest, most shy of the four Marauders.

Sneering to himself, Sirius looked up only to realize that Hermione was staring at him with a strange look on her face, halfway between embarrassment, thoughtfulness and unease. Eyes meeting, she bit her lip, wringing her hands together nervously. He raised an eyebrow inquiringly.

"Yes?"

"Hum..."

Sirius kept quiet. He was certainly not going to help her on this one.

"You know...up there...did I - do something - like - something - huh..." She shook her head, burying her face in her hands. She peaked out between her fingers, only to find Sirius looking at her with a smirk. She groaned. "Pads, this is _so_ not funny!"

The dark haired boy laughed outright at that. "Oh yes it is, Stell, you have no idea!"

She stomped her foot, causing him to laugh louder. "Oh come on! I bet you know what I'm trying to ask and you're just pulling my leg!"

"I sure do! But I want you to say it, love." He winked at her. "Ain't gonna kill ya to speak dirty for once in your life now is it?"

Hermione rolled her eyes, crossing her arms. "And who said I don't speak dirty all day long when you're not there?"

"Love, even if you did, you'd have no memory of it," he pointed out in a matter-of-fact tone.

She huffed. "Doesn't mean I don't do it."

"Doesn't mean you _do_, either. And, you don't exactly look like the kind to talk dirty all day, love."

"And what are you basing that observation on?"

"The fact that you talk like a bloody teacher, for one."

"That's your only good point to say that I _don't_ talk dirty all day?"

Sirius shrugged carelessly and said, "It's enough proof for me."

Raising an eyebrow and fighting a smirk, Hermione taunted, "Really? Because of course, teachers have no life besides the fact that they teach immature kids like you, what, nine hours a day? What do you think they do the rest of time, join the nuns? BUT, if I really do talk like a 'bloody teacher', would you be all right with me asking that question again?"

"Go ahead," was his answer, just as he wondered what the hell a 'nuns' was.

"In that case, why were you, James and Remus, rock hard for a chick that you'd only known the name of less than an hour before? _And_," she added, raising a finger to interrupt what he'd been about to say, "why exactly did you look like three virgins that could do nothing but stare at me when I woke up?"

Barking an appreciative laugh, Sirius smirked and said, "So, you noticed, uh?"

"It was hard to miss it," she said sarcastically. "James was shoved into my back, you...were pretty obvious, and I was getting waves of it from Remus, so-"

"You were 'getting waves of it from Remus'?" Sirius repeated with an eyebrow arched. "And I was 'pretty obvious'? What's that supposed to mean?" The black haired teenager looked comically offended.

"Yes, Sirius, you were _obvious_. Meaning you really weren't making any effort to physically hide that you were hard." She rolled her eyes. "As for Remus...it was through our link. I was getting massive backfires of lust and need." She grimaced uneasily. "I was getting the feeling that he wanted nothing more than to jump me in that moment."

Having only registered one of the things she had said, Sirius pouted. "I was _not_ being obvious!"

"You were, believe me. My face was level, Pads. I know what I'm talking about."

Sirius cocked his head and purred, "So you were looking, uh? Did you like what you were seeing, Stell?"

"Sirius, would you just answer the bloody question!"

"Nope. You'll have to ask Moony. Honestly," he argued when she started to say something, "it's between you and him. Myself and Prongs were just innocent bystanders who became victims."

"I'm having difficulties picturing you as a victim, Padfoot. Much less as 'innocent'. But I'll add this to the list of things you've told me to ask him when I asked you."

"You have a list for that?"

"Well, I've already got 'What happened in the Shrieking Shack for Remus to run away?', now this, and I don't know why, but I just have this feeling that this list is only going to get longer. Which is why I think I'm going to need to write them down _before_ the list gets any longer, otherwise I'll end up forgetting half of them and I'll never get my answers."

"You're definitely something, Hermione No-Last-Name!"

"I'll take that as a compliment, Sirius Orion Black," she mocked, bowing exaggeratedly. "Now if you would please leave the room, I'd like to take my bath alone, if you don't mind too much."

"You sure you don't want me to stay for that 'Mione?" Sirius said, bottom lip protruding and puppy eyes showing.

Hermione rolled her eyes at him. "No Sirius, I think I'll manage on my own, thank you very much! Now get out before I take my wand out and _hex_ you out!"

Sirius raised an eyebrow, the taunt on his face fading. "You have your wand?"

She froze. "Hum... I think I just said that on an impulse... Because, no, I don't have my wand. I checked," she added. "Even if I had it when I appeared in the Shack, it would have broken when I phased."

Hermione was surprised with the feeling of longing and the itch in her fingers now that she had admitted to not having a wand. It was like her fingers were used to its shape and were eager for it again, though she herself could not remember ever even having a wand. Another indication that she had, in fact, been a wizard, before being a werewolf. Another indication that her wand had been a daily utensil to her time. Perhaps even a tool that had defended her and killed on her order.

"Sirius," she said, forcing a smile, "mind leaving now?"

She forced a wink at him, but the look that was now on his face told her that he was unconvinced by her sudden show of mirth. She kept it up nonetheless. She needed to be alone. She had things to think about, theories to ponder. No matter how much she feared solitude, she needed time to think this situation out.

Sirius complacently left, and Hermione turned to the gigantic tub slowly. She began undressing, dropping every piece of clothing, the clothes that Remus had transfigured for her earlier, on the floor in an undignified heap. Then, she turned on the many taps of the tub, taking her time, revelling in the flowing warmth that the water wafted through the air. When that was done, and the tub was beginning to fill up, she stood in front of the full length mirror against the wall, watching herself with a critical eye. Slowly, she raised a hand and touched her lower arm, letting her fingertips graze the skin there, holding her breath. She seemed to be expecting something to happen as she touched the skin, watching intently.

But nothing happened.

A first sob escaped her. Then another. And another. Soon enough she broke down crying, curling up on the ground, first balancing on the sole of her feet and burying her face in her arms, then finally losing her precarious balance, pulling her knees against her chest, and again burying her face in her arms. She'd seen the scars that should've been there. They were what she'd seen earlier; a woman dressed in black, a mound of black hair atop her head, bent over her with a knife, carving the word 'Mudblood' into her skin, her cackling laugh ringing around the wide ballroom as Hermione herself screamed in pain and horror. She remembered herself hoping for someone to come, someone she knew was near, also held captive. She was being tortured. Yet the scars were not there. There was nothing there but plain skin. The vision that so resembled a memory had been nothing but her imagination.

She was mad, wasn't she? To allow herself to imagine being tortured, when it obviously wasn't true, when she looked every bit the posh, spoiled teenage girl that she very obviously was. Or had been. Now she was someone else, a werewolf, a girl without a wand, a stranger just dropped into the lives of three guys who'd asked nothing but to live in peace. Her new scar proved that. It did not only disfigure her, it marked the end of her old life and the start of a new one. Remus was right. This was a second life, a second chance that she was somehow granted. Whoever she had been in her previous life was dead and gone; she was someone else now. She decided to follow his advice. Forget about everything else. Forget about this past that had been hers; it didn't belong to her anymore, and neither did _she_ belong to it. Yet the phantom memory of the word on her arm still burned. She knew that no matter how hard she tried, she'd have to live with the pain of knowing what she was. Somehow, she remembered that being a Mudblood was bad. It had shame and disgrace attached to it. She was a disgrace, a nobody. No - she _had been_ a disgrace. But not anymore. Now, she resolved, she was a pureblood. She remembered that also; she knew that this was a good thing to be. Though she mightn't be one by blood, as should have been the case, no one but her knew that. The scar that proclaimed high and loud what she was was not here anymore - if it ever had been. Therefore, she could be whatever she wanted. And though the choice of being human had been taken from her, she could still decide the rest of her life on. She had the ability to. And she would use it.

She would bear the burden of her dismembered past, and when the time came to fully remember it - all of it -, she would try and move on from it. Disregard it - completely.

And alone.

X

About half an hour later, soaking in the filled tub with water to just below her chest and thick, white bubbles almost up to her chin, her hair slacked cleanly back with water and off her face, Hermione was asleep, her head resting back on the edge of the tub and her arms resting along her straight body.

She was fully relaxed now, finally alone after the events of the last night. It had taken the better part of that half hour to get used to the idea that she wasn't a virgin anymore, more than it should have since she remembered nothing of it. It was hard to acknowledge something that you didn't consciously know, but the wolf in her made Hermione more willing to take dangerous roads and unknown paths. As the slap she had given Sirius showed, she had grown surprisingly bold and daring just hours after her transformation. She might not have known much about herself, but she knew, as much as she hated to admit it, that Sirius had indeed been right when accusing her of being a goody two shoes, of sorts. Saying what she had said to him after his accusation had taken a lot of courage, and definitely enormous amounts of self control for her not to blush bright red like a ripe tomato and break off mid sentence. Yet she had been able to say it, and that was all thanks to her brand new wolf self.

That worked out, she had fallen asleep peacefully, dozing off into a deep slumber, exhausted by her first transformation and thrown off balance by a complete lack of memories. Much as she had said all those names back in the Shack, she didn't know who any of them were. The memory she had of being tortured - if it was a memory at all - was the only thing that seemed real of her life so far. For all she knew, 'Hermione' wasn't even her name, but the name of her best friend, or of her mother or sister. The name had simply popped up in her head in a haze, like an evidence, and she'd assumed it had been hers. Perhaps it hadn't been. But now it certainly was.

As for her last name... She had nothing.

And still, even as she slept, flashes of that vision came to her.

_The darkness was oppressing. That cruel laugh cracked around her like a whip, lashing out like that knife sinking in her skin even as she tried to scream. But they'd drained her completely. She did not even have the energy to produce more than a strangled whisper, squirming under their tortures and praying to Merlin that this wasn't the end._

_The knife slashed carelessly across the skin of her arm, in some kind of a pattern. The figure with the dark curls, bent over her in an ominous presence, chanted the word again and again. _Mudblood, Mudblood_, she sang restlessly, her voice laughing, mocking her as she lay helpless. _Dirty, filthy Mudblood_, it came again. _Who did you steal your punny little spells from, Mudblood? Are you ready to die, Mudblood?_ She became convinced that that must be her name, through the pain-induced blanket pressing on her mind. She could not think, could not speak, could not even _be_ without knowing what she was and being made aware of the flashes of pain bolting up her entire body. There was no escape now, no evading the facts or escaping that knife still looming over her. She was chained, as metaphorically as it was, to her own body, hyper aware of everything that she was forced to go through._

It seemed so real, that Hermione tossed and moaned her pain in her sleep, tormented by remnants of a memory she had constructed around herself. She half jolted herself awake when, in her dream, another voice spoke, followed by her name - a voice filled with rage and worry. Heated words, fired spells, specks of black and ginger hair, wide, watery eyes, and then - nothing.

Death.

It was then that the statue of Boris the Bewildered guarding the entry slid to the side, and in stepped a figure, silent as a feather. The person, their back still turned to Hermione's sleeping figure, silently dropped a black cloak off it's shoulders, then proceeded to unbutton the white acromantula silk shirt underneath it. Turning mid movement, they froze on seeing the feminine body covered to above chest in soap. Hermione didn't stir, engrossed as she was in her nightmare. But the person, who was definitely masculine, hesitated when the girl began begging in her sleep - begging for mercy. Then her eyes flashed open, looking confused for a second, then sensing foreign eyes on her and darting to the side, taking in the jet black, shoulder long hair and the halfway undone shirt hanging loose at the waist. Then something clicked into place, and her eyes flipped back up to meet the man's eyes, narrowing suspiciously at him.

"Yes?"

She raised an eyebrow inquiringly, oblivious to the fact that she had just been begging in her sleep. She looked strong on the outside, immovable, even soaked and vulnerably naked. Yet the boy felt that something was not quite right about her. Something felt off, but to hell if he knew what.

"I shall return later," was all he said.

The boy was about to leave, and Hermione knew that. He was buttoning his shirt back up when she raised her voice.

"Wait."

He turned his head to look at her, and it was his turn to raise his eyebrows at her in question. "Yes?"

"Can you stay?" came her voice, hesitant.

The boy whirled around fully, confused and slightly taken aback, but his eyes hard.

"Stay?" When she nodded, he added, "Why?"

She bit her bottom lip, and he could see she was hesitating.

"I just...I don't want to be left alone. Please," she whispered, keeping her eyes down.

The boy walked over to her slowly, keeping his gaze fixed to her face. She looked up when he reached her, and he kneeled and cupped her chin in his hand.

"Your name?"

She looked away then, prying her face from his fingers. "I had one," was her cryptic response. Again, he felt as though she were hiding something from him, but he didn't push it. Something told him that even if he had asked, she would not have known what to tell him. She looked lost. That was the only word he could find to fit the look in her amber eyes.

"I'll tell you what," he said gently, pulling a strand of her hair back behind her ear. "We'll make a pact. I won't ask for your name, and you won't ask for mine. Deal?"

The girl with the big brown eyes looked up at him, a tiny smile playing on her lips. He could see she wanted to laugh outloud, though he couldn't see what exactly she thought was so funny. But the look on her face... His heart missed a beat. She looked...happy. So happy, that he began to seriously wonder what he'd said to make her smile like this. Her brilliant smile was far from the pained expression on her face just minutes before, if not seconds.

He sat down beside her, unlacing his leather shoes, pulling them and his socks off, and immerging his feet in water, folding his dragon leather pants up to his knees and letting the soapy water lap at his bare legs. He kept a hand on the girl's thin shoulder for the next half hour, and only backed from her when she expressed the need to get out.

X

"Damn, Padfoot, where the fuck were you?! You left nearly half an hour ago! Did you meet a dragon on the way or something?!"

Sirius gave James a dark glare.

"Piss off, Prongs," he scowled, shoulders hunched. "Not in the mood."

The Head Boy raised an eyebrow.

"Okay, you really did meet a dragon, didn't you?"

Sirius just kept walking, heading straight up the stairs.

"You know that's my bedroom, right?" James called loudly after him. There was no answer, and he huffed to himself. "Fine, but you'll have to get out at one point or another! I'll kick you out if I have to!"

Something sounding suspiciously like "I'm waiting!" was heard from behind a closed door beyond the stairs, and James smirked, turning back to the ash blond teenager sitting on the sofa who had watched the whole scene in growing amusement.

"You'll kick him out, huh?"

James shrugged. "Well I had to say something. I couldn't just let him think he'd won."

"But he did," Remus pointed out playfully. "You're just pulling his leg. You'll never beat him in a fair fight."

The dark haired boy grinned. "I know. But I had to say something. Anything is better than nothing."

"That's arguable," Remus mused. "According to theory-"

"I'm not willing to discuss it, Moony," James quickly interjected, a tad desperate to avoid hour-long conversations about the who's and the why's of the phrase he'd had the misfortune to use in front of his smartass friend.

"Fine," the book worm shrugged, "but you still lost."

"I know," James sighed. "I just wish Sirius wouldn't lock himself in MY bedroom every time he's pissed off."

"I feel for you," Remus confirmed, his tone lacking the sympathy his words were implying. "But you should feel lucky he doesn't use your bedroom for other things, too," he added deviously, smirking.

James grimaced. "I'm not even sure he _doesn't_. For the time I spend in them, for all I know my rooms have become his shag HQ and there's nothing I can do about it." He groaned, plopping back down beside his friend and burying his head in his arms on the wooden table. "I'm doomed," he moaned pitifully. Remus patted him on the back comfortingly, and James suddenly raised his head, peering over his shoulder at his friend. "Moony?" he said hopefully.

"No," Remus answered resolutely before James could say another word, "I am not installing cameras in your rooms to check if Sirius shags his dates there or not. I paid that enough the first time. I'm not going to do it again."

"Please?" the Head Boy boy pouted.

"Your puppy eyes won't work with me, Prongs," Remus sighed, shaking his head.

"I promise I won't get off in front of the camera again?" James said tentatively.

"No," Remus stammered. "That's not something I'm ever going to forget seeing, and I'm not willing," the ash blond boy sarcastically accented the words James had used seconds earlier, "to live through it a second time, James. The answer is no."

"Damn," he swore, dropping his head back into his arms. "I really am doomed, amen't I?"

"Yup," Remus confirmed happily, "yes you are."

"Fuck."

"Thinking about that, did you get hard on Hermione sucking my finger?"

James groaned louder, locking his fingers over his head. "Damn, Moony, did you really have to bring that up?!"

"Yes," Remus confirmed, digging his fingers into his friend's back. "Yes I did. Because if you did, then I'm going to have to kill you."

Brown eyes peered over a shoulder. "Dude, you only met her like ten hours ago. Agreed, you've shagged her already," James conceded, "but that- Wait a minute," he suddenly exclaimed, cutting off mid sentence and sitting up straight, "I just realized! Moony shagged a girl! And first date, too!" He grinned at his usually shy friend, looking genuinely happy. "Congrats, Moony!"

"Thanks Prongs, but don't get away from the subject. Or try," he corrected, still continuously digging his fingers in James' lower back, who was doing his best not to react to it. "And we were wolves, so it doesn't count. And that certainly was _not_ a date, James."

James grimaced. "Fine," he huffed. "Whatever you say. It's your sex life, after all."

"Thank you."

"What I was going to say," he continued, "was that even if you shagged her, that doesn't make her yours."

"I'll still kill you if you get anywhere near her that I find suspicious," Remus pointed out calmly.

"Fair enough," James agreed, nodding his head. "I'll remember that next time I get hard on her."

Remus glared at him, and the Head Boy chuckled.

"Seriously though, don't worry about it Moony. Lily's the only woman on my thoughts. Has been for many years."

"I think we noticed," Remus drawled distastefully, wrinkling his nose.

"Really?" the other asked innocently.

"Yes, James Merlin Potter, I'm pretty sure the whole damn school has known for a good few years."

James grimaced again. "I hate it when you use my middle name," he complained.

"I know," Remus confirmed, smirking evily.

"You know me too well," Prongs stated matter-of-factly.

"I'm your best friend," Remus reminded him. "It's my job to know you too well."

"Thanks, Moony."

"Welcome, Prongs."

X

"So, how long has it been?"

"The same length of time as when you asked me about five and a half seconds ago."

"And how long does that make it?"

"Roughly an hour and a half since Sirius came back."

"Isn't that..."

"Long even for a girl? Yes, I would have to agree with you on that one."

"Shouldn't we..."

"Go get her? Again, I can only be merely amazed at your insight, James. We can only assume she didn't die in horrible pain attacked by that dragon Sirius fought on their way to the Prefects' bathroom. And of course if that's not what happened, then she simply must have fallen into the trap of the giant Acromantula who spun her web across the castle's east wing all those hundred years ago. But that would only have happened if she'd actually needed to go to the east wing. And if she didn't get stored as a winter meal, then I'm absolutely convinced it must have been the-"

"Ok Remus, I get it!" James glared at him. "And your point is?"

"I have no idea," Remus answered happily. "I just had a moment of inspiration."

"I think Sirius has a bad influence on you," the Head Boy stated after a short moment of silence.

"And you're only noticing that now?"

"Hey," James protested, "I know I'm slow, okay? No need to rub it in."

"Sorry," Remus shrugged, not sounding sorry at all. "So what do we do?"

"Sleep?" James proposed.

"I'm serious, Prongs."

"No, I am," came a voice from the steps.

Sirius came into the room looking a little better than he had earlier, his hair combed neatly back and a genuine smirk plastered on his face.

"What you all talking about?"

"Hermione isn't back yet."

"I'm not checking on her," Sirius stated immediately, making for the stairs again.

"Pads," Remus interjected, "we weren't going to ask you to."

Sirius froze, one foot on the first step. "Oh," he breathed. "Good."

"Yes, now please come back and sit with us so we can think this through."

James took his head in his hands and groaned as though in pain. "This is why I hate girls," he moaned, rubbing his eyes sleepily.

"Lily's a girl," Sirius pointed out when he was sat down.

"Lily's different," James disagreed, his voice muffled in his hands. "She's a-"

"You're right," Sirius cut off seriously, "she's not a girl. She's a heartless bitch."

James shot his friend a dark look. "I was going to say a Goddess, a beauty queen, the Gryffindor Princess. But heartless bitch works as well."

"Well at least he admits it," Remus stated after a moment of silence. "That's as good a start as any."

"Now, since we're done talking about my girlfriend, can we please focus on Hermione?"

"Must I remind you that Evans has been rejecting you for four years, and that she is certainly no closer to becoming your girlfriend than she was in third year?"

"She will be," James stated firmly. "This year's the year she'll accept that we are soul mates."

"Right. You said that every other year too. It was never true and I honestly doubt-"

"This year's the one," James insisted. "I mean it this time."

"Because you didn't mean it before?" James was speechless, and Sirius said, leaving the subject for good, "The Map, Moony."

The blond boy didn't move. "Why exactly would I have it?"

"Because I gave it to you last week after James tracked down Filch? Or tried to, at the very least," Sirius corrected, eyeing the dark haired boy distastefully.

James avoided his friend's reproachful look, looking slightly guilt and unhappy with himself. "Not my fault he decided to go take a piss at the same time as I was tracking him down. Did you really expect me to barge in to see him over the cubicle?!"

"That's why we're called Marauders, Prongs!" Sirius roared. "We 'maraude'! We sneak, we cheat, we're disloyal, we don't play fair! Damn it, James!"

"I stole the toilet paper," the Head Boy offered innocently. "And I still managed to nick his pants."

"And just _how_ did you manage that if you didn't go into the concerned cubicle?"

"I did," Prongs pouted. "I stole the toilet paper."

"Then _why, oh why_ didn't you also take the keys?!"

"Hum..."

"Now!" Sirius exclaimed, splaying his fingers on top of the table. "The Map!"

"I still don't have it, Padfoot."

"I know," Sirius admitted. "I left it in Hogsmeade two days ago."

"You..._what?!_"

"Yeah, well, you see, there was this chick-"

"I don't give a flying Goblin what your reason is! Why for Merlin's sake did you ask _me_ for it when you knew I didn't have it?!"

"I was trying to give myself time to find an excuse." He shrugged helplessly. "I didn't."

"You're hopeless," James concluded with an exasperated sigh. "Okay, here's what we're gonna do. Padfoot, you take the cloak and go look for the Map. And I swear to Merlin that if you don't brink it back before the day is over... Remember what I did to that guy when we went to that bowling alley with those five Muggle girls in Newbury?"

"You wouldn't," Sirius murmured, paling. "You're only pulling my leg. You wouldn't dare."

James looked at him darkly. "Do I look like I'm joking? As Moony here truthfully reminded me earlier, the only way I can win against you in a fight is by cheating and not playing fair. Therefore," and he stood up, leaning over the table to poke his friend in the chest, "I won't play fair. I'm not joking, Pads. Isn't that what you were just asking me to do? You get that Map back or you'll regret the day your auntie decided to have a kid with a Potter."

Sirius gulped audibly, shot up off his chair like a demented man, and disappeared out the door.

"Sirius, the Cloak!"

Watching in amusement as the dark haired boy came running back up the stairs and down, Remus could only shake his head that James had managed to pull such a threat on his best friend. Nothing could have pushed the eldest Black on like that.

"You know he's going to hate you for it if you really do that to him," the blonde reflected once Sirius had once again gone out the door to the Head Common Room.

James grinned mischievously at him. And also a little evily. "I know. Which is why I'm counting on him bringing the Map back. He wouldn't risk me pulling that threat for real. He knows all too well I'm capable of it."

Remus chuckled, James winked at him, and then they both headed down to the Prefects' bathroom to look for the girl that had, just hours before, barged into their lives without a single warning.

X

Ten minutes later, the two Marauders were still looking for her.

They had gone to the Prefects' bathroom, found it empty, checked in the Shrieking Shack, gone back up to the Head Common Rooms, and were going back to the Great Hall when they bumped into an invisible Sirius coming out of the passage of the one eyed witch.

Just as Sirius was opening the Map with them, a pair of feet disappeared off the edge of the Map and out of the Hogwarts grounds.

Had Hermione even known of the existence of the Marauders' Map at that point, she would have thanked Merlin that Sirius had left in Hogsmeade the week before. Because just then, the three boys noticed a tag labelled with her name.

It wasn't the fact that she was in the Headmaster's office that had them reeling. Nor the question of just _how_ she had known where to go once out of the bathroom.

It was her last name that had them breaking into a run for the door that had been guarded by an eagle for as long as Hogwarts existed in human memory.

A last name that just then made no sense to any of them.

A last name that ultimately meant that she had been hiding way more things from them than she should have.

A thousand questions burned in their minds as all three Marauders slowed in front of the eagle, gave the password, ran up the spiralling and moving stairs, and came face to face with Hermione as they barged into the Headmaster's office.

Behind his desk, sat Albus Dumbledore, blue eyes twinkling with uncanny malice behind half moon glasses. Across from him, sitting in a comfortable leather chair but looking worn out and stunned into a stupor, was the girl with the brown bushy hair and amber eyes, one hand to her wrist and the other on her lap. Her hair was braided down her back from the top of her head neatly. She was wearing a pair of dark jeans and a white t-shirt, acromantula silk from the looks of it. Before they could ask how and where she had gotten the clothes, she opened her mouth to speak.

"Guys," Hermione whispered, her throat audibly tight, "something's happened. Professor Dumbledore has just adopted me!"

* * *

_A/N2: Wow! Finally! Chapter 4, you have been one hell of a beast to write! I was stuck on the second scene for _ages_. Like three full weeks or something. I was stuck on it for three weeks, and then the scenes after that just flew out like they were easy (which they weren't (lol))._

_Well well, finally, I've begun to set down my plot! Were you surprised when Hermione said that Dumbledore had adopted her? Do you understand how significant Sirius' forgetting the map is to her? I mean, just think for a moment. What name would they have seen had they had the map on hand to look for her straight away, before she got even a chance to meet Dumbledore in this era? Hermione GRANGER. Not Dumbledore. Which would ultimately have ruined any chance she had at that point of fitting into this timeline and forgetting about the past she could even remember._

_Challenge: Can any of you guess who the black haired boy from scene two is, and how she got from the bathroom to Dumbledore's office? Can anybody guess what happened in with the Headmaster to make him adopt her? (You'll get your answers, next chapter will be about what happened that next hour and a half, from Hermione's POV.)_

_~Tenshi_


	5. Chapter 5

_Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, or any of the characters from it. These were created by our Queen, JK Rowling, and may the magical adventure she embarked us on remain in the heart of humanity forever I own only the situations they find themselves in and the conversations they have._

_I also have a new Beta, , who will most likely begin her work next chapter, since I'm way too eager to post this up to have the patience to wait for her to finish Beta-ing this one. X)_

_Have a nice read, and do read the second A/N at the end of this chapter! and please, READ & REVIEW!_

_~Tenshi_

Chapter 5

It was only after stepping outside the Prefects' bathroom that Hermione realized she didn't have a clue where to go.

Startled when the black haired boy stepped out beside her, she glared at him.

Impassive as she huffed her annoyance, he looked straight ahead when he said, "I get the feeling you're lost."

Hermione glared again, fixing her eyes to the side of his head until he turned it to meet her gaze.

"Yes?"

"Nothing," she said after a pause. She looked away. "Well, maybe you're right. Maybe."

"And, hypothetically, what would happen if you indeed were lost? Not that you are, of course."

Hermione pouted at the mocking smile in his voice. "Then I'd hypothetically have to ask you to bring me. Hypothetically."

"And just where is it you'd want me to bring you?"

"Hypothetically?"

"Of course."

"To the Head Common Room."

There was no answer, and Hermione risked a glance to her side. The boy's head was down, black hair hiding his eyes, fists convulsing against his thighs.

"You've met the Marauders then, I assume."

He looked up then, and met her eyes firmly, his jaw taut and his face set into a hard mask. Hermione was startled by what she saw. The good humour she'd heard in his voice just seconds ago was gone, replaced with hardness and something close to disgust. And she didn't like what she saw of him at that moment. This boy - man, whoever he was - did not like James, Remus and Sirius. And that was SO not okay with her.

Her own eyes hardened as she asked, her voice neutral, "Yes, why? Is there a problem with that?"

Eyes narrowing, he said, "Actually, there is. The so-called 'Marauders'," and he said the word with more than a little sarcasm, "are selfish idiots who take the Slytherin hatred a little too far. They act as if they owned the Castle, which they don't. They are insufferable gits. There is nothing more to say about the likes of them. Now if you really are lost, I will lead you to the Headmaster's Office. Otherwise, I shall leave."

Surprised by his bluntness, Hermione took an involuntary step back. Then it hit her.

"The Headmaster's Office? How did you know I was going there? I said I needed to go back to the Head Common Room."

"Professor Dumbledore has a way of knowing what is going on around his Castle that no one else has. He specifically asked for me to come here," he said, motioning back to Boris the Bewildered's statue and the Prefects' bathroom. "He said there was something I needed to do before leaving. I assumed he meant for me to take a bath and relax. Not that he would ever be concerned about my well-being if it does not serve his interests, of course," the boy added with more than a little bitterness. "But now that I am here, I am guessing he meant for me to lead you to him. And you have just confirmed that that is indeed where you were headed - or at the very least where you would have gone after you had reached the Marauders that you seem so fond of."

Hermione blushed furiously on realizing that she had just given herself away, dismissing his very pointed statement about the three boys that had welcomed her and saved her without even a thought.

"Fine," she huffed resignedly. "Then lead me there if that is what you were to do."

He nodded, and said, "Then we must remedy to your appearance before you meet him. Allow me?"

He produced a wand from his belt, waving it once to demonstrate that he was asking her permission to use it. She nodded, and to her credit managed to barely flinch as he muttered spells and her hair was pulled back from her face into a tight braid that started from the top of her head and skimmed along her neckline, ending it's course on her shoulder blades. Her outfit swiftly changed to slim black jeans and a light, white button-up silken shirt that she suspected was of the same acromantula silk as the boy's own shirt. Hermione couldn't help but yelp when her clothes changed, the magic momentarily revealing her naked body before once more covering it with the new clothes.

The boy smirked briefly at her blush, turning and walking away before she could accuse him of anything.

"Damn," she breathed as he sped swiftly off in front of her. "Wait!" she shouted quietly after him, catching up to him.

"There's no point in trying to be quiet," he called back, not interrupting his steps. "There's no one in this school but Dumbledore, you, me, Potter, Black and Lupin."

"How is that?"

"School shall not begin for another month."

"Good point," she mused, nearly face palming herself as she recalled Remus' words to her in the Shrieking Shack. "Then why are you here?"

"I thought we had a deal? No names, no nothing. We are not friends, and we never will be. You would do well to remember that."

Hermione frowned at that. The kind boy she had had a glimpse of thirty minutes earlier was definitely gone. She had a feeling he had seen something at that moment, something that he wasn't seeing now. She vaguely remembered having a nightmare, though she couldn't remember what it was. What if she had been saying something in her sleep? What had he heard?

"I remember," she said simply, making her voice hard and cold and hiding her sudden fear behind a mask of indifference.

She was taken off guard when he suddenly stopped walking, and she very nearly collided straight into him as he turned to face her. Balancing back on the soles of her feet, she regained her balance after a few seconds, and when she looked up, their eyes met, and Hermione was once again startled by what she saw.

The boy with the dark eyes was studying her intently, gaze flickering back and forth over her own face as he stared at her.

"What?" she asked, feeling fidgety when a minute passed and he still had not said a thing or moved. "Is there something on my face?" she said self consciously.

He answered cryptically, "There could be - should be - but surprisingly enough - no, there is nothing there."

Though she found his words odd, Hermione didn't know what to respond. He looked into her eyes a moment more, and she was expecting him to do something. When he didn't, just kept searching her face instead, she gave him an odd look.

"Then what's wrong?"

"Has anyone ever told you that you belong in Slytherin?" came his sudden answer.

Hermione's eyebrows shot up. "Slyther- what?"

"Slytherin," the boy repeated, a frown marring his features. "Do you not know what that is?"

The girl shook her head, and he sighed.

"I would be tempted to ask you who you are, if you do not know even the most basic facts of the place your are in, but I suppose-"

"You suppose that that would be breaking our deal. And you would be right," Hermione finished for him, smirking as his own arguments were thrown right back to his face.

"And that," he pointed out then, "is what I mean when I say that you belong in Slytherin."

"You do realize that I have no idea what that even is?" she asked matter of factly. "I don't know if I'm supposed to feel insulted or flattered - or even both."

"Coming from me, the second option would be true. I'm a Slytherin," he explained simply.

"And that means...?"

"Do you really wish for me to be the one to give you your history lesson?"

She shrugged. "After all, I did not even know there was one involved. So, why not?"

"'Why not?'" The boy gave her an incredulous look, and then resumed his strides, adding, "Because the three boys whom are currently hosting you would jump through the roof if they knew who you were talking to right now. And, most likely," he continued as she hurried after him and they fell into a comfortable pace, "would judge my explanations biased at the very least."

"I don't know you," Hermione said quietly, so low that he had to stop and nearly missed the rest of her words. "I'm not going to judge you for something I don't even understand. The simple fact that three people I know do not appreciate one I have just met, does not necessarily indicate that I should dislike that person as well, despite having no reason to do so besides following a trend. Or should it? I feel no need to follow such trends." She looked at him questioningly, cocking her head to the side as they stood watching each other's face for signs.

"No," he agreed just as quietly, his eyes not leaving hers. "You're right. You shouldn't follow trends. It would not be right."

There was a certain amount of hope in his voice, discrete, yet it was there, hiding behind the tremulos of his words. The boy was looking at her, the same way he had looked at her thirty minutes earlier - with wide eyes of understanding. _Again_, Hermione thought. _He's seeing a part of me that, for some reason, surprises him. And not in a bad way either. It's like - like he wanted that part of me to show. But why? Damn, I don't even know _what_ that part is!_

The boy blinked quickly, taking a step back, and instantly his face morphed back into a mask of hard and cold sarcasm, a dark sneer crossing his features.

"Let's walk," he said, and for the umpteenth time he was off. But this time Hermione had expected it, and followed lead without a single wasted second. Just as she was about to speak, he decided to proceed with his history lesson. "Thousands of years ago," he began in the well trained voice of story tellers, "four Wizards and Witches, four friends, joined together in a single spot, with one thought in mind. Those four friends all had different values, different personalities and different preconceived ideas of what the world should be like. They were magical, all four of them, and the most powerful that the Wizarding world had ever seen at the time. From a very young age they had been in each other's company, had learned to know and respect each others for various reasons. They had come to the belief that the Wizarding population of the world needed to be instructed the basics of Magick. And from that thought, was born Hogwarts: School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. That is the school you stand in today.

"Godric Gryffindor, Helga Hufflepuff, Rowena Ravenclaw, and finally Salazar Slytherin, were the four founders of Hogwarts. Godric was known for his bravery, his courage and his skill with weapons, as well as his inflamed temper and an acute sense of justice. Godric's judgement was often veiled by his thirst for justice, and led him to have serious misgivings and misconceptions considering the world he lived in. Every one of his emotions played an acutely more important role in his decisions that in the other three - and that had it' advantages as well as its advantages. Helga was the loyal one, the one that had brought all four of them together. She was the glue that bound them all to each other throughout their long lives, and even beyond that. She was prepared to believe a thousand mad things before breakfast, and was the one who, along with Slytherin, had the rest of them utterly _believing_ in Ravenclaw's project. Helga Hufflepuff was not the bravest or strongest of them by far, yet none of the other three ever put in doubt that she belonged in their group.

"Rowena Ravenclaw was renowned for her intelligence and wit. She alone had first come up with the idea for Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. The others backed her up in her idea, but she was the one who drew up the plans for the school and planned out everything that the future students would do during their day. She mapped out every room, every corridor; designed the Moving Staircases and the system through which portraits now guard entrances and await for passwords which _she_ defined. Due to her intelligence, Rowena Ravenclaw was also arrogant, and though her deductions were often correct, they were thought out in a way that became predictable once you knew her enough. In particular situations, Slytherin, Gryffindor and Hufflepuff could have written out her train of thoughts on paper without her uttering a single word. As a result, though she was a skilled dueler, her duels were carried out in a simple, clean, straight line. To an experienced opponent, none of the moves she ever pulled surprised him or took him off guard. Her intelligence and over confidence led her to be too predictable for her own safety.

"Salazar Slytherin was the cunning one, the ruthless one that had gotten them through too many bad patches for any of them to count. He was the one who looked over Rowena's shoulder constantly, pointing out incoherences and helping to fix them, helping her lay out the plans that he had utter faith would one day become the most well known school in all of the Wizarding World. Salazar was, at the time, considered a Dark Wizard by the majority of the people who knew his name and had heard of his achievements. This man was one who did not think over things that he knew would pain him - if he had to kill - to save his life or another's - he killed, no questions asked. He was not a person of emotion - contrary to Godric, whose emotions were constantly displayed for everyone around him to see and controlled his actions, Salazar's emotions were tightly reined beneath the surface. Just like a wolf's, his emotions boiled under his skin, unseen and unnoticed, brewing to maturity, until finally he found a way of exteriorising them. Through a duel more complicated than others, he would lash out like a snake, unexpected and sudden, surprising with every twist and pull of both his wand and sword. At times like this one, his magic would surpass that of the other three put together. He was a well of power when he truly gave himself over to a cause or sought to reach a goal.

"They created four houses, each possessing the values and beliefs of their name sakes. The houses were and still are today Slytherin, Gryffindor, Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff, after the four founders.

"Salazar had the faith that Godric in particular often lacked. He believed in the things that they could achieve together, and foresaw just how important a center of learning their school would become. Just as Rowena and Helga were inseparable in their womanliness and kindness, Gryffindor and Slytherin were constant rivals, striving to achieve higher and higher still than what the other had, and yet they were in essence the best of friends. They were exact opposites in temperament, and that brought them together like nothing else could have. When they fought, the two men worked their magic in tandem, joining spells and magic and even minds, something that not even Helga and Rowena, with all their complicity and common love, were able to do. They knew exactly, at every moment of the battle, what the other was doing, thinking, what he had done or was about to do. They worked together in such a way that any onlooker would never have doubted that, no matter the enemy they faced, they would win. The two of them in fact really did face down entire armies alone, without getting so much as a single curse anywhere near them. They were unbeatable, invincible - literally."

The black-haired boy stopped talking then, his face hidden by a curtain of dark strands as he lowered his chin into his neck contemplatingly. He seemed to be thoughtful about something, and Hermione stood back from him as they walked, absorbing what she had already been told eagerly. She found the knowledge somewhat comforting, familiar in a way that she could not explain. As much as this place seemed foreign, the story that the boy was recounting was something she found reassuring - like two old friends reunited. She frowned to herself, unsure exactly what that was supposed to mean. Had she known this story before? Had she been here before? But it was not the story or the words themselves that felt familiar - it was really the knowledge. The simple feeling of soaking up everything she heard and converting it into information to use at a later date. It seemed so easy to do, so natural, that she knew she must have revelled in it once. Absent mindedly tracing the scar on her cheek, she resolved that that had indeed been 'once upon a time'. This was not her. Not anymore. The scar on her face proved that, like the metaphorical slashing and cutting of the links she'd had with her old self. Even now, she saw it as a symbol of her new life - of her second chance at life.

For now, even as the learning seemed familiar, there was a kind of horror associated with it. A fear of something - of knowledge itself perhaps. Hermione felt torn between the comforting familiarity of it, and the imbued fear of this simple act of discovering and _knowing_.

"Stop," she found herself whispering unexpectedly.

The black-haired boy looked up in surprise, stopping dead in his tracks. The girl was looking down, avoiding his eyes, her hands twitching and pulling at each other in a distress that she was likely not even aware of. Caught off guard by her sudden vulnerability, he found himself struggling with his own emotions, fighting the instinctual reaction that pushed him to comfort her. But he shook it off, forcefully reminding himself of the deal he had set up between them.

He shrugged, in a way that he knew would look dismissive and careless. "You asked for an explanation." And he resumed walking.

There was a short silence behind him as the girl stood stunned by his reaction - and also likely by her own -, and then a scuttle of feet on the floor as she hurried after him. He didn't stop to wait for her, and was again left to ponder on her motives when, instead of walking beside him, as he had assumed she would do, she stayed back a little, walking behind him and slightly to the side, seeming to go out of her way to avoid stepping on his feet by inadvertence. Her steps were measured, careful, yet instinctual as she barely watched where she was going apart from eyeing his feet, and there was a carelessness to her words that was starkly in contrast to her careful movements. He had the strangest feeling that the two did not belong together; like her body knew more than her brain did, for some reason that he could not fathom. She spoke like a child, asked questions, reacted on her instinct, and seemed at a loss to stop her own emotional responses to his answers. So far, her response to his statement that they would never be friends had been his only indication that perhaps she was not the Gryffindor he had first identified her as. She was a mystery; yet as much as he loved to solve mysteries, she was one that he would have to refrain himself from uncovering - they had made a Deal that he would not break, no matter how much his curiosity pushed him to find out more about this Witch's past and present.

And so, he refrained himself from asking the questions that burned his tongue, and instead lead her along the corridors of Hogwarts: School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, up to the office of a man whose name was one of the most famous of their Era.

X

The staircase leading to the Headmaster's Office represented a Gryffin, with his wings opened wide to embrace the entirety of its width. It stood tall, over six times Hermione's height, and was imposing enough that she hesitated to step into it. The black haired boy had left already, leaving her with the password to Professor Dumbledore's office and one last word of advice: 'Albus Dumbledore is not the kind of person you would meet around the corner of the nearest pub. He may speak like he knows you already, but in truth he is just extremely observant. If you want to keep whatever you want to keep secret, secret, steel your face and your emotions. Do not let him see anything.' And then, as an afterthought, he'd added, 'But I doubt you will have a problem with doing that. I have this...this feeling that you have predispositions for keeping secrets. Good luck to you, and may we never see each other again.'

And, with that, he had turned around and left, before she even had time to thank him. Thank him for staying with her even though she hadn't dared ask it; for giving her clothes that she would never have dreamed of having; for leading her here and telling her things that she likely would never have known otherwise. Godric and Salazar's stories still played in her mind, as she recalled what the mysterious dark-haired boy had told her. 'They were exact opposites in temperament, and that brought them together like nothing else could have.' 'The two men worked their magic in tandem.' 'They knew exactly, at every moment of the battle, what the other was doing, thinking, what he had done or was about to do. They worked together in such a way that any onlooker would never have doubted that, no matter the enemy they faced, they would win. The two of them in fact really did face down entire armies alone, without getting so much as a single curse anywhere near them. They were unbeatable, invincible - literally.'

'They were unbeatable, invincible - literally.' Hermione repeated those last words to herself, over and over, trying to fathom how such a connection was even possible. She was not familiar with the concept of different Wizards' magics working together - working in tandem as the black haired boy had said. Perhaps this was due to the fact that she had lost her memory, but since even the term was not familiar, she figured that either she had never known about it at all, or her subconscious was playing tricks on her, and only allowing certain things to come back to her. She suspected there was a bit of both involved.

Then she remembered the boy's statement about her belonging in Slytherin, and wondered just why he would have thought such a thing. What was there in her that could be compared to the man that had been described to her? He had faith in the future, and that was not something that Hermione could claim of herself. He was combative, powerful and liked to duel with magic, and from the yearning she felt when just thinking of her wand, she suspected that that at least was true for her - though the 'powerful' part of the statement she could not have guessed on herself. As for reining in her emotions... It was true, she guessed. The boy had said, just preceding his claiming that she belonged in Slytherin, that there should have been something on her face - but that there wasn't. Was that what he'd meant? That there were no emotions on her face? That despite his rather sharp statement about her being better off to not forget that they would never be friends, she had not shown the display of emotions that he had expected from her? Sure enough, she had been unwilling to show her vulnerability. But was that truly enough to call her a Slytherin?

Recalling the description of Godric's values, Hermione could easily take a guess at the Marauders' houses. Gryffindor fitted all of them easily, though she may have hesitated on placing Remus in Ravenclaw, had he not broken down so violently in the Shrieking Shack just hours before. And Remus' way of thinking was far too inventive and unexpected for him to be in Rowena's house. After all, wasn't he the one who'd thought of her name - Stellar? And of the clothes he'd first transfigured for her, the white shirt - she had easily noticed - was slightly transparent, though she had decided there was not much point in saying anything about it. From her given description, Rowena Ravenclaw had likely been a person who liked to follow rules - she had written out Hogwarts own rules herself - and was clean and proper at all times, something that Remus obviously was not. The fact that he was part of a group that involved someone like Sirius was proof that he was capable of mischief, and that his intelligence did not at all hinder his ability to have fun and enjoy himself. And though James seemed rather serious and well mannered, there had been something in his eyes during their introduction that had led her to believe that he hid just as much darkness and hatred as Sirius did. Sirius was the kind to carry out pranks, James was the one who thought of pranks, and Remus figured out how to make them work, she decided. She had no idea where Peter stood in their group, and she really couldn't see what role he would fill amongst them.

Sirius... He was unpredictable. There was an inevitable darkness inside him, his eyes old beyond what his features would lead to believe - as if he had seen and had to endure more than the average teenager. But he was a rebel - that much was obvious. His flirting, his obvious confidence in himself and in his good looks, his mischief, his jokes, his slight arrogance, and yet the quiet dignity he exuded, all puzzled her. Some of those traits, from what the dark haired boy had told her, belonged in Slytherin, others in Ravenclaw and Gryffindor. He was a mystery.

James' darkness was far different to Sirius'. He seemed much more mature than Sirius did, and thus from the very first moment she had seen him, from his glasses to his good manners and quiet demeanour. His eyes were constantly more or less dark, whereas Sirius' shone with mirth and good humour most of the time. James looked like someone who had looked in the face of darkness for the first time as a child, had had difficulty adapting to it, and yet had survived - but not without scars to show it. Sirius was the exact opposite - he had been born to the darkness, and had extracted himself from it tooth and nail. He knew the darkness inside him more than James even suspected his own, and he was not afraid to use it - did not hold it on a leash as did James. She could easily see how the two boys fit together, how they had become so close. One completed the other in more way than one - Hermione was confident, as she analysed the respective profiles that she had drawn up in her mind, that their friendship was one that would last through everything that life found to throw their way. And in more ways than one, their friendship reminded her of Godric and Salazar.

Unbeatable, invincible - literally.

It was on that thought that she spoke the password which the boy had given her, '_Zweit Leben_', and stepped into the Gryffin that had begun turning on itself and rising. She had just enough time to ask herself what language it had been that she was already facing the metal door that, she suspected, was the entry to the Headmaster's Office. Her knuckles held up, she hesitated before knocking - but just after she did, was called in by a warm, inviting voice.

She pushed the door and stepped over the threshold, stopping short when pain flared into her leg, so strong that she collapsed, clutching it into her stomach and gritting her teeth to stop herself from moaning in pain. Instantly there was someone at her side, a long white and grey beard brushing the floor beside her and a strong grip holding her upper body up. Momentarily surprised at the strength that such an obviously aged body could encompass, Hermione gasped when the pain in her leg receded, replaced by a warm tingling feeling that allowed her to open her eyes. There was a large bird hanging over her bent up leg, his body a fiery red, cheeks laced with yellow and tail feathers ending in an obsidian black that was so dark it seemed blue. It looked to her like the bird was crying, and as she watched, a single tear fell from down his beak and dropped onto the patch of skin that could be seen under her now torn pant leg. Instantly, the bloodied scratches that she could see on her skin receded, leaving place to a smooth surface that looked as good as new.

Hermione gaped at it, and was surprised when the warm voice that had called her in manifested itself just beside her ear.

"How are you feeling, my dear?"

She twisted back in his grip, and stood the moment he let her go, slightly unbalanced as she looked at the fiery bird that had flown off back to its perch when she had stood. The wooden perch was beside a large desk covered in various devices that Hermione could not identify uses for. She turned on her feet, and her eyes met those, blue, of a man that looked easily over a hundred years old. He had a long trailing grey beard down to his stomach, stranded with brown and ginger, a wrinkled face that accentuated his 'wise' looks, and glasses cut in half moons that his twinkling blue eyes shone over as he looked at her. He was a mere three feet away from her, and he extended a hand and placed it on her shoulder in a comforting and paternal gesture.

"How are you feeling?" he repeated gently.

"I'm better sir, thanks to you. I assume you are Professor Dumbledore?"

The old Wizard smiled at her question, and walked back to behind the heavy wooden desk, motioning for Hermione to take the chair on the other side of the piece of furniture.

"I am, child. May I ask you how you have come to know of me?"

She hesitated to speak, for telling this man that she did not even know that James, Sirius and Remus had welcomed her in Hogwarts meant risking him finding out that she was a werewolf - and that was not something she was willing to divulge at this point. Yet Remus had told her that she could trust him. Didn't that mean that Remus himself trusted him? Had he told the man of his condition? And if so, was this one person that Hermione could share her secret with?

"I can see that you are facing a dilemma, but I assure you, there is no need for you to hide anything from me." Dumbledore inclined his head and looked at her from over his half moon glasses, winking at her once before adding, catching her completely off guard, "I am aware that you are a werewolf - just like young Remus Lupin - and I promise you that is not something I am about to judge you for. If anything, I have faith that you and I can enjoy each other's company with no such secrets marring our dialogues."

And that was how Hermione's encounter with the ominous Headmaster of Hogwarts: School of Witchcraft and Wizardry started out. At this point, Hermione was far from even envisaging that, by the time they were finished, the elderly Wizard would have adopted her.

* * *

_A/N: First off, I'm so, so sorry for the delay! I haven't had much time to myself lately, which is mostly why it took me so long to finish this chapter. I also lost inspiration towards the end of the first scene, with the black haired boy (whose identity, by the way, only two or three of you out of a good fifteen reviews managed to guess correctly) with the black haired boy telling Hermione about the four founders. It took me over a month just to figure out just how much she was to find out. I kept writing things, deleting things, adding more and taking more out. UGH! Nightmare!_

_Once that was done, I wrote the entire second scene in two hours watch in hand, when my dad, my step mum, my baby sis and I were driving back home from the Alps after a nice, mountainous holiday x) Sunday we came back, and even as I'm writing this I'm still in the car (still on Sunday), hoping to post this up tomorrow or Tuesday at the latest!_

_Now, any pronostics for what's going to happen next in Dumbledore's office? Has anyone any questions to ask? Thinking of that, if anyone is thinking about asking what happened with Hermione's leg when she stepped into Dumbledore's office, it WILL be explained in the next chapter, as well as how and why Hermione was adopted by Dumbledore. Don't fret! ;)_

_~Tenshi_


	6. Chapter 6

_A/N: Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, or any of the characters from it. These were created by our Queen, JK Rowling, and may the magical adventure she embarked us on remain in the heart of humanity forever 3 I own only the situations they find themselves in and the conversations they have._

_And thanks to my new Beta Potterfan1097 for Betaing this chapter! This is the first betaed chapter in this story, so enjoy! xD_

_Enjoy the read, and don't forget to take your Wolfsbane! 3_

_~Tenshi_

Chapter 6

"You...you know about me? And about Remus, too?"

Hermione was slow to react after Dumbledore's statement. How did this man know about her? How could he possibly be aware of something that had only been true for a few hours? Remus, for all she knew, might have told him that he was a werewolf - but there was no way that could have brought Dumbledore to guess on her own condition.

"How?" was her only question.

The elderly man nodded quietly to himself, his eyes cast down at his entwined hands. Hermione was quick to notice his dismissing of her question. Already, she knew that his answer would be cryptic at best. Whether his knowledge surpassed hers so completely that he could not explain them to her, or whether he was simply weary of trying to explain a child something _he_ just barely understood, she did not know. But either way, the outcome was to be the same.

"I'm sure the boy who brought you here told you many things about me. Whether these things be legends or truths, one of the facts he will have told you is that I have ways of knowing things that none other understand. That is one true fact about me that you must continually be aware of, lest you begin to consider me a senile old man."

Dumbledore's blue eyes were twinkling behind his half moon glasses, and as he watched her from over those glasses, Hermione was struck with the startling impression that she was being passed under X-rays. There was no escaping that piercing gaze, those bright eyes that pinned her to her seat and analyzed her every move. What had the boy told her again? 'Albus Dumbledore is not the kind of person you would meet around the corner of the nearest pub. He may speak like he knows you already, but in truth he is just extremely observant. If you want to keep whatever you want to keep secret, secret, steel your face and your emotions. Do not let him see anything.' The boy... Who was he?

"Who is he?" she asked suddenly. "The boy who brought me here? Who was he?"

"It is not my place to tell you his name if he did not feel the need to inform you of it," the elder Wizard pointed out with a conspiratorial wink.

Hermione took her head in her hands then, winding her fingers under the braid that her chestnut strands had been pulled into. Tears pricked the edge of her eyes as she fought the injustice of her own ignorance, and of being refused answers to questions that she felt were legitimate. There was a hand on her shoulder then, posed lightly, applying just enough pressure that she knew she was being beckoned to look up at its owner. She did, lifting her head from where it rested on her bent up knees, her feet poised on the edge of her chair.

Above her, the old Wizard was struck with the way her eyes seemed aged. There was a knowledge, a gravity behind them, that had him pausing in the words that threatened to overflow his lips. He could not - would not - dismiss this young witch as he would have another student. This was not another student. This was a girl who was lost, who possessed a strong sense of right and wrong, and seemed incapable of voicing the worries that were hers. This was a girl who needed help - and if there was one thing he could do, it was to help those in need - especially when the person in question so resembled one he had failed in the past. His past was too dark for his karma to forgive him another failure to help someone in need of him.

Albus Dumbledore squatted in front of the sitting girl, fingers grasping hers and blue eyes fixed to amber ones in an attempt to convey that he would not give her up. "There are things that are better left untouched while it is not time, Hermione," he began softly. "Things that would not be believed if told from mouth to ear, and better left for a time when they can be shown for themselves. Trust," he continued as he stood and walked back to behind his desk, "is a complicated notion. One of those few felt by the first Muggle cave men, before murder became essential and before betrayal was even envisaged. It is hard enough to gain one's trust, without risking to lose it when it has only just been earned. Don't you think?"

Hermione surveyed him for a moment, trying hard to dismiss the fact that she had not told him her name - and yet that he had known it anyway. She felt as if he knew something that she didn't - something he wasn't saying. Whether it was because he, for one reason or another, _could not_ tell her, or because he believed that _she_ wasn't ready to hear it, the end result was the same. She knew most of the questions she had wanted to ask would remain unanswered. But for some reason, she did not blame him for it.

"Before you ask," the old Wizard started again, "the reason your leg failed you when you walked into my office, was because it appeared to have a charm on it, a Healing charm that was removed by the Protection Charm placed over my door. Your leg, as it appears, was broken, then healed - twice, by two different Wizards, if the magical signatures I detected are true - and had its Healing Charm removed on entering my office. I cast the charm that now holds your leg together myself. This one will not fade upon existing or entering my Office in the future, but though my magic is stronger than most, it will fade within a few days - two weeks at most. I would advise you to visit Madame Pomfrey, our Medi-witch, before the beginning of the school year. You will be joining us, Hermione. Come the next month, you will sit through the first year sorting ceremony, and then you will be seated in the Great Hall with the Sorting Hat upon your head, and you will join the seventh year comrades of your new House." The old man leaned forward in his seat, ensuring that he had her full attention as he dropped, finally, like a bomb in an eggshell, "Whether you realize it or not, you belong in Hogwarts. You are a Witch, and if your magical signature and your aura are any indication at all, you are an incredibly strong one at that. And the best part is - you haven't realized how strong a potential you have!"

The man's eyes were twinkling again, like he was enjoying some private joke - and it was all on her.

Why was she here? What had Remus said again? 'If there's one person who can help you, it's him'... Then what was she waiting for? But the man had just told her that she would be joining Hogwarts in a month. Shouldn't she be asking about that? But no, her mind apparently had not yet processed what he had told her. She would ask the Marauders about everything he had said later - for now, her focus was on whether or not he could help her. And with an abandon that she would cherish in the future for its rarity, she told him everything. She omitted only two things; her vision, which she was not even sure was real, and what had happened between Sirius and her. Those things where nobody else's business but hers.

When she was done, Dumbledore was silent. Somewhere during her monologue he had left his desk to stand behind the window, his hands clasped behind his back as he listened to her relate her few memories, past and present. He had not spoken a word, had not questioned her on any part of her story. He listened - and that was all he did. Had she not been able to see the calculating look in his eyes, the gravity of his gaze as it rested on her in between two breaths and the flow of her words, she might have thought that he wasn't listening at all. But he was. And Hermione could not relate with words how good that felt.

Finally, he padded slowly back to her. She was silent now, as silent as he had been. She wasn't sure what part of what she had told him could have elicited such a profound silence on his part. She thought he might have seen something more in the few things that had happened to her in just less than a day, but she'd be damned if she knew what that was. Surprising her, the old Wizard waved a hand and a chair appeared beside her, facing her. It was thinner and lighter than the one behind his desk; she supposed that was why he had made this one instead of moving it. He was sitting then, his back rod straight and his hands on his knees. Gently, he took her hands in his and caught her gaze with his, holding it there in a intangible steel embrace of will.

"I understand that you don't wish to recover memories of your past life," he began gently, "but I'm going to have to ask you to let me into your mind. You will not have to see what I witness unless you consciously want to. You will be able to hide what you truly do not wish for me to know. But I have an insatiable curiosity, Hermione, one that is heightened with every new mystery I have the chance to encounter. Would you be so kind as to allow an old man his only weakness?"

Hermione closed her eyes. "I won't have to see what you see?" she whispered anxiously.

"Not if you don't wish to," he confirmed softly, squeezing her hands briefly in a gesture of comfort.

"I don't." And she really didn't.

"Then you won't, Hermione, I promise you."

There was a long moment of silence as she weighed her options. What harm could it do to let him find things out for himself? And he'd said that she could hide what she truly didn't want him to know; for example her vision - the scars that weren't there. She really didn't want him to see that figment of her imagination.

"Okay," she murmured with her eyes shut tight.

"Look at me."

Her eyes flashed open.

His wand was poised at her.

"Don't worry." And then, "Legilimens!"

And he was inside her mind.

And she could feel him shuffling through her head, weaving in and out of memories that were little more than shadows for her. What he'd said was true; she had no idea whatsoever what he was seeing - only that he was inside her head and that she was watching him from afar as if from behind a glass case. There was nothing she could do, nothing she could say. She could not even move as she saw his magical signature invade her past life. She wanted to scream, wanted to pound on that glass case with everything she had; instead she remained where she was, wherever it was that his intrusion inside her head had reclused her to. He had imprisoned her inside her own mind, had pushed her back into her own confines in order to save her from seeing what he was seeing. She wasn't sure whether that was even possible normally. This man, she could sense it now - could sense the magic, the power, rolling off him in waves - was much more powerful then he appeared. She knew she did not have much to compare him to, but he was strong. Nearly infinitely so.

And then, she didn't know how, but she was back inside her own mind, watching through Dumbledore's eyes something that she knew she should not have been witnessing. Words without end flew in front of them; it was like watching an entirely black screen tell the story of another life.

_Ariana Dumbledore..._

_Aberforth Dumbledore..._

_Kendra Dumbledore..._

_Percival Dumbledore, life sentence in Azkaban..._

_Albus Dumbledore..._

_Godric's Hallow..._

_Regrettable accident..._

_Unstable sister..._

_Elphias Dodge..._

_Gellert Grindelwald..._

He was being pulled from her mind, sucked out by a strength that was not his, a giant hand that had grabbed him and was now pulling with all its might. Albus struggled in its grip, but he was not strong enough.

Time seemed to slow as the two consciousnesses battled, jolting awake the dormant lord of time as the ripples that these two immensely magical beings were causing echoed through the veil of the future. Two strengths, two impossibly strong Wizards, their wills struggling for control over the Witch's mind. This was Hermione's magic. In sudden realization it struck the old Wizard that this really was the Witch pushing him back, in a display of magic that was unbelievable for one so innocent in appearance. And the pain, the eternal, all-consuming pain... It was horrible to think that one so young should be pushed forward by nothing other than pain - but it was true. And it was forcing him out, inexorably, unstoppable, and then-

The two bodies tumbled to the floor, their chairs sent flying from under them. Dumbledore's wand was ripped from his hands with the strength of the deflagration. He, too, was overwhelmed by the power he had just witnessed - and that was something that had not happened in years.

And the girl - she was on her knees, just like him, with her head in her hands and shouting, screaming for him to stop - and the pain was still there, and he could feel it too - and he knew it would be too much for her, that one day she would falter, and one day she would _break_, utterly _break_ - for nobody could live with such searing pain inside of them - within this torture, you could only survive - living was not an option. Not like this. Not like this.

Dumbledore scrambled forward, all dignity forgotten, with only one thing in mind - the pain, it had to leave, or she would succumb to it. He shouted her name and then she was looking up at him, her eyes wide and - and _different_ - and she was silent, her gaze locked with his and her hands on either side of her head, her face a sudden mask of stone. For a split second, his breath failed him. And then his open palm was against her forehead, and she was screaming again - and the darkness inside her mind was pounding in their heads, in unison, like a heart beating to the rhythm of a death service - and her head was thrown back, screaming with every inch of her being as the pain cradled her heart for one last time-

And then it was gone. The girl fell forward, and he wrapped his trembling arms around her, twisting her so that she was half laying on him, her back against his chest, her legs bent to the side and her arms limp by her sides. She was drained, and if truth be told, so was he. Her darkness, that darkness that had been causing her so much pain, had passed through him on leaving her body. He wasn't sure how long she had been living with that _thing_ inside of her, but it was bound to have left wounds inside her - wounds too deep to heal and too _real_ to simply ignore. He had tried to help her, he really had - but he just _knew_ that this was not the end of this.

It was only the beginning.

"Professor," the girl breathed out, and he looked down at her slumped form.

She was scrambling to her feet and out of his embrace, reaching out for the heavy chair that had been thrown to the ground. She straightened it and sat down shakily, and then they were facing each other once more, both of them sitting down. But this was different to their previous positions; the old Wizard was trembling this time, shaking like a leaf with his head buried in his hands and his elbows rested on his knees as he leaned forward in his seat. Hermione reached out for him, a frown inscribed in her features and worry gnawing at her for the old Wizard, but as she touched his shaking shoulder and he raised his head to look at her, she was shocked to see that he was laughing.

"Sir?"

"Oh, my dear, I'm so sorry!" The Wizard wiped at his tearing eyes between two giggles - _giggles_ - and straightened his back to look at her. "It's just - such power!" He shook his head, a smile tugging at his lips as he searched her eyes. "You have no idea what just happened do you?" When she shook her head, he sighed and closed his eyes. "It's no wonder you're here..."

"What?" Hermione had straightened in her chair, her back ramrod straight as she took in what she had just heard. "What did you say?"

"Hermione-"

"You know why I'm here?" she cut him off. "You know who I am?"

"No, I don't know who you are. I know just as much as you do on your identity."

"But you know why I'm here," she insisted vigorously, standing up suddenly in front of him. "You know."

"No, Hermione," he replied with a sad smile. "All I know is that with great power comes great responsibility. And you have great power, Hermione, more than you suspect - more than I originally thought. It is only natural that you should be sent here, in a time of great need. This world is your great responsibility. And though I hate to see such weight on your shoulders..." Dumbledore sighed and stood, manoeuvring himself around his desk. "The only thing I can do," he continued as he opened a drawer, reached into it, and slid a dagger out of it, "is attempt to make what you have to do here easier for you."

The dagger's hilt was a deep blue, embedded in yellows stones, and its blade an immaculate silver. The Wizard rounded the desk again, only to sit back on the edge of his previous seat with the blue and yellow dagger still in hand. Both their eyes were glued to it, like two lost boats brought back to shore by a brilliant lighthouse.

"This," Dumbledore began reverently, "is the blood blade that Rowena Ravenclaw and Helga Hufflepuff used to declare each other family. Ravenclaw's blue and Hufflepuff's yellow, intertwining on a single historical object." He lowered the blade to his knees and raised his gaze to meet hers; she was still standing. "Hermione, I want to make this easier for you. I want to help you. And the only way I can think of to do this is for you to join my family. I want to adopt you."

Her eyes widened, and at that moment Hermione could do nothing but drop back into her seat and stare at him with wide, disbelieving eyes. "Why?" she whispered. "Why would you want to adopt me? You don't know me. You don't even know who I am," she repeated incredulously, not wanting to believe it.

"But neither do you," he said gently. "And at this point in time, it's possible that I may know more about you than you do."

"But why would you even want to adopt me?" she asked desperately, a hint of pleading in her voice.

"Because you have been charged with a mission, Hermione, a mission that will come to weigh upon your shoulders like a thousand boulders once the time comes and you cannot overlook it." The old wizard leaned forward and grabbed her hand in his, sandwiching her fingers in both his hands in an attempt to convey to him that he was truly sincere. "I want to help you, and by adopting you, I am achieving that goal. I will be able to protect you with both my name and my magic once you become my heir. It is vital, in this world of unrest, that you are protected - at all costs. It is but a small price to pay, for me to give you my name. And," he added, a small, nostalgic smile tugging at his lips, "I will gladly admit that this option is not devoid of interest for me, too. I have no children, Hermione, and I happen to be in need of one." He raised a hand to caress her face gently, and she didn't move, her eyes wide and searching for the truth in his wrinkled and wisened face.

"Sir, I-"

"Not a word, my dear Hermione. It is time for you to take your rightful place in this world. Become my heir. I am asking this of you, for your own protection."

It took her a long time to make up her mind. To look past the fact that she couldn't understand why he would do this for her. To forgive herself for Merlin knew what made her feel so utterly _worthless_. For minutes that stretched out until they felt like hours, she held her head in her hands and fought against Dumbledore's words, struggling against her own conflicting emotions. She cried until his hand on her trembling shoulder brought her back to reality, and when she looked up and met his eyes, she knew in her heart that Remus had been right. If there was anyone in this world that she could trust to help her, it was him. Albus Dumbledore had nothing in mind but her own well-being. And she trusted him - blindly.

So she locked gazes with him, and nodded. Once. But it was all he needed to understand. He reached out to the dagger he had placed back on his desk, his hand never leaving her shoulder, his eyes never leaving hers. Hermione straightened her back, shrugged his hand off in a symbolic gesture meant to show that she knew what she was doing, and took a deep, purifying breath.

He took her hand.

Dragged the tip of the blade slowly across his upturned wrist, then across hers, their bloods mingling on her skin as he recited old spells in a language that she knew was Latin. She felt his blood as it entered her system, and then _became_ her own blood as the blade coated in her red cells was dragged across his skin and became a part of him. They both took in sharp breaths as their senses came into focus, their two magics linking them together and heightening their perceptions for a one brief moment until the surreal connection faded. A parchment appeared out of thin air, a long, curving feather hovering beside it. A movement of the Wizard's arm, and the feather began scratching away at the paper. A wave of his hand, and both their wrists were healed. The dagger, still in his left hand, was clean, with no trace of the blood that had smeared its tip not seconds before. And then it struck her that this was a blood blade, just as Dumbledore had said. It had absorbed their blood, had fed on it.

Albus Dumbledore. They were family now, and in fact the only blood family that she had here - if they could be called 'blood family' at all. What was she to him? His daughter?

"Hermione," the Wizard called her name, pulling her out of her thoughts. "Thou hast become'st my heir in blood, name and title," he began, and her eyebrows shot up as she gave him a look that clearly said she thought he was crazy, "and thou shalt remain such here and hereafter, till the dawn wherein man's common enemy doth strike the hearth and the mention of humanity shalt be no more. Thy safety shalt be mine concern, and thou shalt take precedence over any of similar blood for mine inheritance. Hermione Dumbledore, take'st thy new name, as from here and onwards thou shalt be mine sole heir."

Hermione sat stunned as she listened to his words, the look she had originally thrown him forgotten as she listened to him. _'Thou shalt take precedence over any of similar blood for mine inheritance'_... The possibilities were infinite.

"Old english?"

"Indeed," Dumbledore smiled slightly. "Do not forget that Helga Hufflepuff and Rowena Ravenclaw lived over a thousand years ago."

"So, what you just said - they wrote it?" she whispered in bemused wonder. "They did. At the time, both Helga and Rowena's families had rejected them. When they made each other family, they wanted to make sure that, in the case of one of their deaths, they would inherit the deceased's possessions - not the supposed 'families' that had renounced them."

Hermione sat striken for a few seconds. "But your family-"

"Ariana is dead, and Aberforth has spent the last hundred years doing everything he could to forget my ever existing." He gave a gentle smile at her surprised look. "I know you saw what happened to my family, Hermione. If anything, you saw _that_ - the part of your memories that concerned me."

The young Witch looked guilty for a moment, and then pulled herself together. "I saw what I saw, Professor Dumbledore, but it is not my place to comment upon it. Your history and your past are yours only."

The Headmaster cocked his head to the side. "I find it rather ironic," he began, his voice amused, "that you should begin to speak like me once my blood runs in your veins."

Her eyes widened, and impossibly she started laughing. Dumbledore shook his head and stood, a movement of his hand causing the chair he had transfigured to disappear. Her eyes stared at the empty space that had previously been occupied by a chair.

He hadn't transfigured anything. The chair had just appeared out of thin air. How was that even possible?

But then Dumbledore was sitting behind his desk, and she was looking down at the barely-there scar on her upturned wrist - and then the door burst open and Sirius, Remus and James came barging in.

* * *

"Right. So, you're now Hermione Dumbledore, correct?" Sirius was asking.

"Correct," Hermione confirmed, watching in amusement as the three boys sat somewhat dumbfounded in the Headmaster's office.

"Albus Dumbledore's adoptive daughter?"

"That's what I said," she smirked, trying hard to contain her mounting laughter.

"Right. Why did he adopt you again?"

"Sirius!" Hermione exclaimed, throwing her hands up in the air in despair. "We've gone over this four times already!"

"Ugh!" Sirius took his head in his hands, raking his nails down his cheeks in a comical gesture. "But it's too bloody confusing!" he complained indignantly. "Not two hours you were just a girl with a furry little problem, and now you're the heir of the most powerful wizard in living history!"

"See that Hermione, you've got a 'furry little problem' too now!" Remus joked half-heartedly, more shaken by the news of her adoption that he was showing. Of course he'd expected Professor Dumbledore to help her, but _this_!

Hermione gave him a slightly confused look. "What?"

"James here calls my lycanthropy my 'furry little problem' when we're in public," the blonde explained, his words punctuated by a nod from an only half-listening James. "That's gonna be your daily cup of tea now."

"It makes it sound like we're both really hairy or something," she pointed out distastefully.

"I know," Sirius agreed enthusiastically. "That's what makes it so funny. The look on people's faces when we start talking about that is actually priceless!"

"I'm sure," Hermione drooled sarcastically, rolling her eyes emphatically.

"Gentlemen," Dumbledore interrupted their gentle bickering. "I would suggest you leave my office. The four of you have a lot to talk about."

James piped up at that. "Like what?"

"Like my daughter's insertion in school, for one thing," the Wizard stated matter of factly.

Hermione winced inwardly at being called his daughter - he _was_ old enough to be her - what - her great great grandfather after all.

"Really?" the three boys exclaimed at once.

"Really," Dumbledore confirmed, highly amused by their obvious delight. "Now off with you! I have steps to take in order for our Hermione's adoption to be recognized by the Ministry for Magic. In less than a month you will all be starting your last - first for you, my dear - and seventh year in this school." He paused and looked at them from over his half-moon glasses, eyes twinkling as he gave them a knowing look. "I'm sure you will successfully find something to occupy your turbulent selves before the school year starts."

It was only a matter of minutes, the time for all four of them to stand, bid the Headmaster goodbye, and for Hermione to thank him for what he had done for her, before they were out the door.

* * *

_A/N2: To __**reviewer Jen103**__ and a few others who asked the same thing: yes, the boy's explanation of the founders' stories was absolutely essential to this story. It was MY version of their story - of what the four of them might have been like. It will come back to Hermione numerous times throughout this fic, will help her face things that she would have been unable to face otherwise, and basically the issue will come back often. Lol, that was me not wanting to sell out the plot and ending up finishing a lame sentence with an even lamer ending! xD_

_To the __**guest reviewer of the 8/19**__: If that's really your opinion on who Remus should be with, you'll be disappointed here. xD_

_To the __**guest reviewer Smily of the 8/3**__: I feel like I'm deceiving such high hopes! xD nope, it's not an OC. But smart guess! :P_

_To __**reviewer Potterhead Bell of the 7/22**__: nope, you're going much too fast. Think about it. Hermione told Sirius - who, remember, was the second person she spoke to as far as she remembers - that she wasn't ready to tell him. Why would she tell Dumbledore when she knows him even less than she knows Sirius and Remus?_

_I hope you enjoyed the read!_

_I'm so sorry about the delay for this chapter! About two weeks ago, I was nearly finished this chapter when my phone (where I write all my chapters) suddenly froze while I was writing and lost everything I'd just written. I was so pissed, I didn't touch my phone for over a week, and then it took me another week to put it all back together. But oh well, here it is now, and I really hope you like it! ^_^_

_What did you think of this chapter! __**REVIEW GUYZ**__! Tell me what you think, it really keeps me writing! :D_

_Something else. I've recently uploaded a __**Bellamort**__ HC called __**Razor Sharp**__ to my profile, so if there's any Bellamort fans out there, go read it! I've been told it's one of my best one shots to date, so please, take a look at it! :D Just click on my account and it will show up in my stories! :P_

_By the way, if you've read this A/N, apart from my review responses, put '13' at the end of your review! Just so I can see who actually reads the Author Notes! ;)_

_One last thing: credit for cover photo given to deviant **arondight-sword** on deviantART! :D_

_~Tenshi_


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